


Spellbound

by katnissdoesnotfollowback (lost_on_cloud_9)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Dead Characters, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Ghosts, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Voyeurism, Witchcraft, Witches, as in already dead, cats behaving badly, discussions of attempted suicide, mild creep factor, shapeshifter katniss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-04 23:23:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16356278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_on_cloud_9/pseuds/katnissdoesnotfollowback
Summary: Katniss and Primrose Everdeen lead a simple life, sustained by a shop in a small town and a thriving online business that sells herbal remedies they concoct themselves. They share a lovely home in the woods, isolated from others, where they can be safe, only a cat and a cranky ghost living in the shed behind the abandoned house next door as company. Until a young man moves in next door, intending to restore it and live in it. Primrose just wants a friend and her sister’s happiness. Haymitch just wants to live his afterlife in peace. Katniss wants to get rid of the intruder and keep her sister and herself safe from anyone who might fear what they really are. Witches.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been trying for three years to finish a fic that features witch!Katniss. No really, there are at least three abandoned drafts in my folders. This one's going to work. I am determined. So here we are, part one. As usual, I have no idea how long this ride will be, or how many chapters, or how often I will be able to update. There may be more warnings and tags added as we go but probably nothing too triggering. Mostly minor character additions that I haven't entirely worked out yet. 
> 
> I am going to try my best to complete this before Halloween, but odds are against that happening. Please enjoy what I can finish before then and hopefully we won't be dragging it out past Christmas. Comments welcome as always! <3 KDNFB

**_~~ Katniss ~~_ **

The sun is mid sky by the time I return to the house with my haul for the day. Warmth radiates up from the earth’s dark soil and the fresh scent of woodland foliage plays in the warm breeze, enhanced in the heat. I take a deep breath before walking through the gate behind our house, waving my hand behind me to close it. I take my time wandering through the maze of our garden, high boxwood hedge walls concealing tucked away corners of rare plants and herbs. I pause to shoo away a small gathering of ravens eyeing the sea holly. They caw loudly in protest but flee quickly.

When I reach the back porch, I stomp my feet then scrape the soles of my boots to clear to bottoms of dirt and refuse before entering the house. A foul odor hits my nostrils and I wrinkle my nose.

“Ugh. Must be a Thursday,” I mutter and head into the kitchen. “We brew Love Potion 12 on the first Thursday of spring, Katniss,” I sneer at the cauldron in the fireplace. “It reeks,” I tell the air. There’s no one to hear my complaints, though. Prim insists that the damn thing is only effective if you begin brewing it on the day of thunder at the start of spring. I think she’s crossed her lore and just wants to torment me with the stench all weekend long.

Then again, Prim also insists that Love Potion 12 doesn’t reek to her. If it weren’t for her brilliance with every other potion known to witches, I’d think her mad.

I find a clothespin and use it to keep my nostrils shut, breathing through my mouth as I unload the plants I gathered, carefully hanging some to dry, dropping a few into jars of oil and shaking to coat the herbs. Then I start working on the meats, separating what’s for Prim to use and what’s for me to use.

A jar of freshly caught toads. I wave my hand over the jar and mutter the incantation to immobilize them, open the jar to drop in some frozen flies for them to eat, secure the jar lid and release them from the spell. I’ve even caught a rare species of silver moth and admire it before setting the jar in the cabinet.

The rabbit is more tricky. I slice the meat and clean the bones, carefully putting entrails and eyeballs and tail fluff and bones in their respective storage places for Prim to use later. It’s her least favorite part of potions and she often calls things something else from what they really are. Eyeballs she refers to as marbles. Claws are referred to as scratches and teeth are called bites. A scratch of wolf, a bite of deer. There’s no end to her creativity where denial is concerned.

I’ve just finished preparing the rabbit meat to cook for dinner and am about to begin the process of tanning the hide when I hear the unmistakable sound of a car door and voices. I wash my hands and hurry through the house to our front window. As I watch, a man in a suit carries a placard as he walks into the tangled, overgrown yard next door. The gate creaks as he opens it and a hinge snaps.

I smile in triumph. I’m getting better distance with my spells. He’s sweating and talking fast to a second man, who seems unfazed by the broken gate. The only thing I have time to register about the second man is blonde hair and a stocky build before the suit clad man walks boldly up to the FOR SALE sign that’s been in front of the house next door for decades, and hangs the placard on it.

SOLD

“No,” I whisper.

They shake hands and I spring into action, racing up the stairs to my room and cracking the window open, stripping down and then taking a few deep breaths. The prickling barely registers and I blink to adjust my eyes to the sharper focus and washed out colors, then leap up to the windowsill in one clean spring. Into the tree outside my window, I creep across to the one in the neighboring yard and into the broken window. I slink through the house, my ears twitching as I hear their voices and a car door, an engine starting.

I set myself up beneath the porch, ignoring the cobwebs and Horace the snake to stare at the blonde man as he waves and the suit drives away in a slick green Jaguar. There’s still a beat up truck parked on the curb. I’ll have to ask Haymitch how to make a car appear haunted or possessed. He won’t like telling me, but there are greater things at stake than that old grouch’s comfort.

The blonde man turns around then and gazes up at the facade of the house that has been part of our protection since we came here. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and I take the time to examine my new enemy. He’s medium height, stocky build. His hair falls in waves over his forehead and his eyes squint in the bright sunshine. A small smile curves up his lips and he nods to himself.

He’s going to regret buying this house. I’ll make sure of it.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Peeta ~~_ **

“Are you out of your mind?” My brother asks instead of answering my greeting. “That place you sent me pictures of? It should be condemned!”

“The foundation is basically perfect. There’s only a few minor issues with the frame. The roof needs all new shingles, but the rafters and base are in great shape. Everything else is a lot of work but fixable,” I tell him as I heft my bag out of the bed of my truck. “It’s got the bones to make it into exactly what I want.”

“How long is that gonna take, Peet?”

“I dunno, maybe a year altogether?”

“You really have lost it. Just...have you already signed?”

“This morning,” I tell him and he curses, but it’s all garbled and as I walk towards the house, his voice fades in and out and static interrupts. “Graham?” More static. “Graham?" Nothing. "I’ll have to call you back.”

Hanging up, I stare at the screen. The image wavers and I stop walking, wait for it to even out. When it does, I have _No Service_ showing in the top left corner.

“Typical,” I mutter to myself and pocket my phone. I didn’t think to check the service out here, although I should have. It’s just my house and the neighboring one for about five miles. Two random cottage style homes surrounded by lush forests. Peace and quiet. Exactly what I want.

I glance over at the house next door and wonder about my neighbors. There’s been no sign of life any of of the times I’ve come to look at the house, and today is the same. No car in the driveway.

The house itself is gorgeous. Painted green and trimmed in white and smoky gray. Well maintained with a thriving front garden of sumptuous flowers in a rainbow of color and trailing vines over the gray painted picket fence. Wind chimes cheerily make music on the front porch. Each window shows delicate curtains and there’s even a cat shaped weather vane at the top of the high peaked roof.

Smoke curls out of the central chimney, indicating that someone is home. I’ll have to go introduce myself. Tomorrow, though. My kitchen is useless right now and I hate to impose without a gift of some kind. I’ll have to use the bakery kitchen tomorrow to whip something up.

Setting my foot on the front step, I refocus my attention on what I’m doing. As soon as I put weight on my leg, there’s a splintering sound and the step cracks, swallowing my foot.

“Ah!” I drop my bag as a pain shoots up through my thigh and hip joint.

I huff in frustration and bend over to pry my leg free. One more thing to fix, but I guess that’s what I get for buying an abandoned and run down house. Leaving my bag for now, I manage to get myself inside. The realtor gave me a key, but it’s basically useless. The front door hangs half off its hinges and a small amount of pressure is enough to open it. I shut it behind me and quickly undo my pants, drop them to the floor and freeze at the sudden racket from under the stairs.

Loud thumps and scratches.

“Hello?” I ask stupidly. Of course there’s no answer. Probably just a mouse or chipmunk. I make a mental note to see about setting up some catch and release traps and go back to examining my prosthetic. No damage is apparent. I gingerly test it out now that the initial pain is gone. Satisfied that I’m good, I pull my pants back up and retrieve my bag.

It’s already close to sundown so I set up my air mattress and sleeping bag in the only bedroom with both a working door and unbroken window. This room would make a great kids’ room. Someday, maybe. For now, it’ll have to do for me.

I pull up my notes on my phone and start making lists of things I’ll need to get. For tonight, I’ll focus my shopping on cleaning supplies and groceries. Tomorrow, I think I need to start on the plumbing and see about the roof.

Boards creak underfoot as I head back towards the stairs. That’s an eventual project to deal with. Necessities first. As I’m rounding the bend in the stairs, something feels out of place. Hair stands up on the back of my neck. Like someone, or some _thing_ is watching me. I glance around and hold completely still. Listen for any disturbances.

“Hello? Anyone there?” I call out again, hoping there’s no answer.

Nothing.

I’ve heard all the rumors about this place. Haunted by a dead moonshiner who lost his mind and murdered his girl then committed suicide in the distillery out back. Jackson was pretty clear about what he thought of my home purchase when he hired me and I told him where I was thinking of buying.

I shake my head at myself. Ridiculous.

Tucking my phone in my pocket, I turn to continue downstairs. That’s when I see it. A single word written in the grime on the window overlooking the landing in the staircase.

_BEWARE_


	2. Chapter 2

**_~~ Primrose ~~_ **

“Are you sure about what you saw?” I ask as I crush some dried chrysanthemum petals into dust, sprinkling them into my cauldron.

“Positive,” Katniss insists, peeking through the curtains one more time, although I don’t know why. She can’t see the neighboring house through these windows. Just our garden and the twelve foot tall hedges that surround it. “He’s camping out in the house. It’s only a matter of time before he starts tearing into it and turning it into a livable space. Or worse, sends in crews to do the job. It would be better if he plans to do it himself. He probably will.”

“How long did you watch him to figure that out?” I ask as she drops the curtains back in place. Her cheeks darken and she moves over towards the fridge, looks through it so I can’t see her face.

“How can you stand making potions mid afternoon when it’s so hot? The heat is unbearable.”

“It’s barely even spring. It is not hot out yet.”

“And gah! You’d think that stuff would smell better with all the flower bits that go into it.”

I smile and stir. There’s a reason this potion stinks to my sister. I am patiently waiting for the day she develops a nose for its unique perfume. “How long did you watch him? And did he see you?”

“Not that long. I don’t think he saw me. He just seems the type.”

“What type?”

“Jock-esque. Brawn no brain. Ready to take a sledge hammer to things for the slightest reason and never reads directions,” she says as she waves her hand in the air and I continue stirring. “Should be easy enough to scare.”

“Uh-huh. Is he cute?”

“What?” She sputters as she spins around with a rose water in her hand and I can’t help but giggle at her. She’s so obvious sometimes. “Of course he’s not cute! This is serious, Primrose!”

“Okay, okay,” I concede and school my features into an attempt at a serious expression.

“Would you stop that?” Katniss says.

“Stop what?”

“ _ That! _ Mom used to make that face at me! And no truth serums, either!”

I roll my eyes and bend over to adjust the height of the flames beneath my cauldron. “But really, what would be the harm in having a neighbor? You could use a friend.”

“I do not need a friend. I need the abandoned, haunted house next door to remain so,” Katniss insists and I sigh.  _ I _ could use a friend. Although I understand why we live the way we do, it gets lonely. I love my sister, but sometimes she’s a little overprotective. Just a little.

“Maybe he won’t be freaked out by living next door to witches. Maybe we should give this one a chance,” I suggest.

“Holding hands, baking him a pie, and singing  _ Kumbaya  _ will do nothing to keep him from running us out of town or worse when he finds out what we are. You don’t remember what it was like before we found this place. Always on the run, never trusting anyone, constantly living in fear.”

“Not much has changed,” I grumble and she tilts her head at me, giving me the most exasperated Katniss look ever. I shrug. That look does nothing to me after putting up with both her and my beloved but somewhat cranky familiar, Buttercup, for years.

Speaking of which, he chooses now to hop onto the counter and curl up near the heat of my cauldron.

“I’m not making you live that life if I don’t have to. Trust me, Prim. It’s better this way,” Katniss says and then returns her unopened rose water to the fridge. “In fact, I’m going to talk to Haymitch while Brawny Boy is still gone.”

“Just promise me you won’t go too far? I know how you get when you’re set on something.”

“None of it will be ‘going too far’ if it keeps you safe,” she says and then pauses. “Look, if it makes you feel any better, I already feel like an ass for doing this to him, okay?”

“Gasp! She has a heart!” Katniss scowls at me and I can’t help but poke. “What prompted such unparalleled empathy?”

“I cracked the front step under his foot before I realized he’s got a prosthetic leg.”

“Katniss!”

“I didn’t know! I won’t do anything like that again, okay? I’ll try to play...somewhat fair.”

I’m still grumbling and muttering but she’s already headed upstairs. 

Buttercup licks his paw serenely and his yellow eyes meet mine.

_ She saw him in his underwear. It caused a most amusing reaction. _

I sputter in laughter as he continues to clean himself. “Now Buttercup, what have I told you about spying on my sister?”

_ My apologies, Mistress. I will report to you immediately next time. The human seems harmless. _

“And she won’t even give him a chance. If Katniss is going to frighten the living daylights out of him, I’m just going to have to be ten times nicer. That house is a wreck. He’ll probably be hungry tonight and have no kitchen to work in.”

_ Shall I accompany her? See what mischief she brews? _

“That would be so helpful,” I tell him and feed him a few fishy treats, scratch under his chin as he purrs loudly.

Buttercup leaps off the counter with a swish of his tail and follows Katniss. I set the spoon to stir on its own for a few minutes and start rummaging in our pantry to see if there’s anything I can make real quick to take to our new neighbor. After all, polite neighbors introduce themselves.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Katniss ~~_ **

I take a deep breath and enjoy the heightened scents I can detect in feline form. It’s an entirely different world through the eyes of a cat and while I didn’t initially like the form I could shift into, I’ve come to appreciate its usefulness.

Springing out the window, I make my way through the branches of trees, heavy with new spring greenery and the last of this year’s blossoms, into the decrepit house next door and then the back yard. It’s in worse shape than the front. The air is heavy with the perfume of soil, mushrooms, and decay. Sweet berries sprout from thorny bushes that have taken over the untended space and it takes me some time to traverse the distance to the run down shed just at the edge of the woods behind the house. I sink my claws into the old, moth eaten dress that I keep here and crawl inside before shifting back.

“Haymitch,” I say and scowl when he groans in protest.

“Don’t even start with me. Ghosts can’t get drunk so I know you’re not really hungover.”

“Fucking shame, too, Sweetheart.”

“Aren’t you supposed to refrain from foul language in polite company? I thought that was a thing in your living era.”

“You don’t count as polite company.” I can feel my spine stiffen at that. As much as I need him to stay right here and haunt the place to keep people away, Haymitch and I have never really gotten along.

“Someone bought your house.”

He scoffs and the air shimmers for a second before he reveals himself to me. I wrinkle my nose and cross my arms.

“What’s the matter, Sweetheart? Am I underdressed?” That’s an understatement. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to actually seeing him. His colorless form is clad in a stained, tattered suit, circa 1920’s. It’s covered in vomit and rope burns ring around his neck. He’s unshaven and his hair hangs in greasy clumps.

“Can’t you do something about your appearance?”

“That ain’t the way it works,” he says and sits in one of two empty chairs to stare at a dust covered chess set, stalled mid game. “What do you want this time?”

“I told you. Someone bought your house.”

“I wish the poor sap luck with the pile of rubble.”

“I need you to help me get rid of him.”

“No can do, Sweetheart.”

“You’re a ghost. Haunt the place. Isn’t that what you do?”

“For being my neighbor for close to twenty years, you know very little about how this whole thing works.”

“Look, him living here puts you at risk too. He could call all kinds of paranormal experts to try and exorcise your spirit or whatever bullshit it is humans believe in these days.”

“Maybe one of them will actually succeed. That’d be nice,” Haymitch says.

“They won’t succeed. They’ll just annoy you.”

“Kind of like you’re doing right now?” Haymitch asks and scowls up at me, his light colored eyes glittering with arrogance and malice. There’s a distant rumble, the sound of an old truck parking on the curb out front. “Sounds like we have company. Go bake him a pie to welcome him to the neighborhood or something, Sweetheart. You’re cooking is far more likely to scare him off than me rattling some chains at night.”

“You’ve never tasted my cooking.”

“Don’t need to. Smells bad enough.”

“You’re insufferable. You can’t smell anything either. Fine. If you won’t help me, I’ll do it myself. Give it a few days and you’ll see things my way.”

Haymitch grunts and melts back into ether as I turn my back on him and shift into cat form. It takes some doing, wriggling my way out of the dress, but I manage and slink back to the house. I station myself in one of the busted front windows, crouching low into the lengthening shadows, and watch my quarry as he climbs from the truck and slams the door, a phone held to his ear again.

“Yeah, no that’s fine. I can make it in to open tomorrow morning,” he tells whoever he’s talking to as he moves to the bed of the truck and pulls out a pair of canvas grocery sacks. “Alright, see you then.” 

My tail flicks in anticipation. I close my eyes and concentrate on the air around me, preparing to unleash sounds through the house.

“Hello! You must be our new neighbor!”

My eyes fly open and all the energy I mustered for my spell dissipates in a flash. Of wind. It ripples down the lawn and blows her skirt about a bit. His hair ruffles and he stares at the house, bewildered.

“Uh, yeah.”

“I’m Primrose! But everyone calls me Prim for short.” Her cheerful greeting seems to distract him from what just happened.

“It’s nice to meet you, Prim. I wasn’t sure anyone actually lived next door.”

“Oh I spend most of the day in town at my store. A Pot of Care?”

“Really? That’s right across the street from Three J Bakery. I just started working there.”

“Home and work neighbors!” Prim says cheerfully. “Oh! I made you a casserole. It’s not much. You aren’t allergic to anything are you?”

“No allergies. Thank you,” he says as he accepts the dish from her. “That’s um...Very kind of you. I was actually going to bake a pie or something at the bakery tomorrow and bring it over to introduce myself to you. I’m Peeta. Peeta Mellark.”

“Nice to meet you, too Peeta,” she says and extends her hand out to him. He juggles the casserole dish to shake her hand and my back arches, hair standing up in spikes. I can’t believe she did this. We discussed this not five minutes ago and here she is being friendly and bringing over casseroles. I have a sneaking suspicion of what that casserole contains. A special ingredient. Not just cream of mushroom soup.

“You could still bring a pie over tomorrow! Maybe then you can meet my sister, Katniss.” Prim suggests.

“Sure. That’d be great,” Peeta says with a smile and then Prim steps back.

“I should get going. Let you enjoy some dinner in your new home.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow,” Prim says as she returns through our gate and smiles at him. She then turns to several of the plants in our yard as Peeta approaches the house. He’s careful around the broken step and then Prim has the gall to smile at me before going inside.

I have my suspicions, but just to be sure, I wait until Peeta enters the kitchen. He peels back the cover on the casserole and smiles at the dish. It smells divine. Then he takes a bite.

I screech and race from the house.

“What the? Who’s there?” Peeta shouts as I make it outside and scramble up the tree, my paws burning and tingling. He steps outside and I hold my breath, hidden up high in the tree. He looks around the yard for a moment and I listen to the crickets chirping.

“Stray cats,” he finally decides. “That must have been what all that thumping was earlier.”

Finally, he goes back inside his house and I return to mine. Shifting and hastily dressing in the dark before gingerly walking downstairs.

“A threshold protection spell, really Primrose?” I ask and retrieve some of our burn balm from the fridge for my still tingling palms and feet. It’s only minor and will heal fast, but I hate spell burns.

“Maybe you shouldn’t bear ill will towards your neighbors,” she says with a smirk. 


	3. Chapter 3

**_~~ Peeta ~~_ **

The wind howls through the night, making sleep difficult. I keep waiting for the crack of thunder or the blinding flash of lightning that would make the chilling atmosphere complete, but it never comes. The one time I turn my head to look out the window, the sky appears clear. A brilliant three-quarter moon hung amongst the stars. I don’t even catch sight of swaying shadows or the sound of scratching branches, although that too would add to the haunted house atmosphere.

Actually, it sounds like the walls are moaning. But I keep telling myself that it’s the wind.

I’m not sure if I manage any sleep. When my alarm goes off, I groan and stretch, forcing myself into action. 

It’s still dark. The toads and crickets of the night still singing as I head out back to an old water pump I found and tested yesterday. It’s not ideal, but it’ll just have to work until I can get the plumbing in the house up and running. There are towering hedges around the back of the neighboring house, so I’m not too worried about startling one of the girls with the sight of me naked in the backyard. With a few deep breaths, I brace myself for the frigid water, washing and rinsing as quick as possible. 

As I’m leaving for work, I chance a look over at my neighbors’ house. Primrose and Katniss. I know that Primrose is a flower, but I’ve never heard a name like Katniss before. I make a note to look it up while I’m in town with service on my phone.

A chill runs through me. I stop in my tracks and stare into the tree that grows between our houses. I swear I see several sets of beady eyes staring back at me. Clouds shift off the moon, and shafts of silvery light pierce through the branches, revealing at least a dozen hunched black bodies. Some kind of bird.

I think.

I shudder and I turn my back on them, whistling to myself as I climb in my truck and start the engine, cranking my music up and hoping it doesn’t disturb my neighbors. Primrose, at least, seemed kind and sweet. I’d hate to wake her too early.

Once I’m clear of our houses, I roll down the window, letting the cool morning air wake me the rest of the way. It’s still early summer so the air is fresh and not too humid. And while my new house is a little out of the way, there’s no traffic on the road this early.

I park in the back and knock on the door, waiting for Jackson to let me in. “Morning, Mellark. You look surprisingly awake.”

“Used to these hours,” I remind her and she nods.

“Come on in and we’ll get started.”

We work steadily through the morning and officially open just as the sky starts to lighten. A few early customers arrive and I’m pleased with how easily I fall back into the rhythm of working in a bakery. Jackson seems pleased as well. Enough that I feel comfortable asking her a few questions.

“What do you know about the girls who run that store across the street?”

She glances out the window and smirks. “Oh the Everdeen girls. That’s right. That haunted pile of rubble you bought is right next door to their house.”

“I met one of them last night. Primrose. She seems nice, brought me a casserole and welcomed me to the neighborhood.” Jackson laughs at this.

“I’m not surprised. Primrose runs the store. She’s the youngest.”

“So then Katniss is the oldest.”

“Yep. Family moved here...twenty years ago, I think? Mom, Dad, two girls. They took up residence in that house, which actually it was falling apart back then too, now that I think about it.”

“Really? It’s beautiful. They must have put a lot of work into it.”

“Must have. We all used to joke that their neck of the woods was haunted. The old Abernathy place...that’s yours...people  _ still _ think it’s haunted.”

“So you’ve told me a hundred times. I haven’t seen any ghosts yet.”

“You’ll tell me if you do, though, right? I’d like to know if we’re gonna have ghost related tardiness or absences.” I snort and wave back out the window to get her back on topic. Besides, I’m not sure telling her about my creepy night camping out in my derelict new house will help my case.

“I was going to bake a pie or something today to return the casserole favor but my kitchen’s still out of commission and I don’t know if they’re violently anti-pie.”

“Nobody is anti-pie in this world or there’s something wrong with them. You can use the kitchen here. Let’s see, what else would you need to know... Katniss comes into town now and then, usually just to bring supplies and things to Primrose or to work their booth at all the seasonal festivals. Supposedly they have a garden out back where they grow all their ingredients for their stuff. Mainly I think Katniss tends the gardens and deals with the online side of their business. They keep to themselves, no one I know has actually been inside their house, but they’re polite and don’t get into trouble. The kids in town love Katniss for some reason. There’s always a line of young ones around their booth. Parents both died….oh maybe six years ago? I don’t know much about them beyond that, though.”

“Do they have any cats?” I ask, thinking of the feline screech I heard last night after Prim brought the casserole to me.

“There’s a yellow cat who hangs around the store a lot. Not sure if it’s theirs or a stray. Oh hey, look,” she nods out the window and I watch as Primrose walks up to the front door of the small shop. She’s dressed much like she was yesterday. A pretty blue dress that’s vintage in style, simple brown shoes with low heels. I look around for a car parked on the street and can’t find one.

“Does she walk the five miles?”

“What?” Jackson asks and I point out the lack of car.

“Probably parked behind the shop,” she says with a shrug and returns to work. The shop door opens across the street and a second later, the place is flooded with warm light. I can’t see much through the curtains that cover the lower half of the windows.

“I’m thinking cherry,” I say. Sweet with some tartness to it. I don’t know why, it just feels right.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Katniss ~~_ **

I sit in the corner and wait as Prim completes a transaction, a smile on her face that remains even after Mrs. Yates leaves with her purchase of creams and candles. The shop bell tinkles merrily, marking her exit.

“Just give me a second and we can go get some lunch,” Prim says and opens the box I brought her from the house.

“Sure,” I say and help her place the tea tins on the shelves.

“These look good,” she comments and I shrug. I wish I was better with creative things and pretty packaging, but my work suffices. We’ve never gotten complaints about the packaging, mainly because we deliver a product that actually works.

“So where did you want to go eat?”

“Oh I’ve been smelling the soups and breads across the street all day.”

“No,” I answer immediately.

“You can’t avoid meeting him forever.”

“I’ve met him.”

“I meant with you in human form. And him with his pants up.”

I glare over at Buttercup, perched on the shelf. He flicks his tail and I hiss at him. “Spy.”

He hisses back.

“That’s literally one of his purposes, Katniss.”

“I thought Brawny was bringing pie to the house,” I argue and Prim rolls her eyes.

“Your excuses are so flimsy.”

“I’m still mad at you by the way. That stunt last night? You made it so I can’t protect you.”

“No, I made it so you’d have to at least speak to him once before you terrorize him or run him out of town.” Her words make me feel guilty. Because they're the exact words I used to explain what he could do to us. But that’s the point, isn’t it. Either I run him out or something awful will happen to us. “Besides, the spell only lasts as long as the casserole is in the house. As soon as he eats the whole thing, it’ll wear off.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say and she pushes me towards the door.

“Come on, we’re going to meet our neighbor and you’re going to be nice.”

“I will refrain from transforming him into a newt.”

“That’s like the bare minimum of cordiality, Katniss. You can do better than that.”

“Fine. I’ll shake his hand.”

“No tricks,” Prim orders as we cross the street.

I go, but only because she’s blocked me from getting into his house. This is the only way I can size up the enemy while that casserole is still around. He’s a big guy, I doubt it’ll be too long. Bedsides, I have to admit, the bakery does smell enticing today.

When we walk in, he’s behind the counter, a smile on his face as he talks with Cordelia Ripper.

“Well now I had the raspberry scone last time and I’m not sure it agreed with me. Maybe the lemon loaf this time. But I need something for Mr Ripper as well…”

There is no Mr. Ripper. It’s actually kind of sad, but Cordelia lost her hand in a mining accident years ago, right before the mines shut down for good and the town sunk all of its capital into changing the town’s primary industry to support dairy farming. Cordelia was left homeless in the process and some say she lost her mind along with her hand. Even though many people have offered to put her up for a week at a time or provide her with a job, she seems to prefer her vagabond lifestyle. She’s taken to it well and since she’s harmless and never asks for too much, people play along with her claim that whatever she’s getting, she needs two of them. One for her and one for Mr. Ripper. Prim keeps her stocked in toiletries and potions for whatever ails her when she stops in our store.

I cross my arms and wait for the reaction when Brawny Boy Peeta discovers she doesn’t have the money to pay for her baked goods.

“We have a lavender scone if you’d like to pair that with the lemon loaf. Fresh baked this morning. Here. Try a sample so you’ll be sure.”

“Oh!” She coos and eagerly accepts the bite. As she’s fawning over it, Peeta glances up at us and if possible, his smile widens as he waves to Prim and tells her he’ll be right with her. Then Ripper shifts down the counter, bringing me into his line of sight.

A fluttering starts in my scalp and ripples down my body. His eyes. I haven’t seen them in their full color version until right this second. The shades of blue are nothing short of magnificent. His smile wavers as we stare at one another and it’s only when Ripper speaks up again that he looks away from me, breaking whatever weird spell just passes between us.

“Yes I will need one slice of the lemon loaf for Mr. Ripper and the lavender scone for me,” Ripper declares. Peeta doesn’t question or correct her, but bags up her goods and asks her about Mr. Ripper, carrying on a friendly chat about someone who doesn’t even exist. 

Spell.

The word rings in my head. I glare at Prim and elbow her.

“Ow! What?” She hisses under her breath.

“What did you do now?” I whisper. We have a firm rule not to use our magic in town. The risks of someone seeing something they find out of the ordinary and asking questions about it is too great.

“Nothing! I’m just waiting here!”

“We’re talking about this later!”

“I didn’t do anything,” Prim insists.

“Thank you and have a nice day, Miss Ripper,” Peeta says to Ripper and sends her off with a wave. I’ve missed the entire exchange of no money. Now I’ve missed another chance to figure him out. He turns to us and smiles, this time it seems almost shy.

“Hello again, Primrose,” he greets her. His eyes dart over to me for just a second before focusing back on her. “I’m sorry I don’t have your pie ready yet. It’s about ready to go in the oven, though.”

“Oh that’s fine. We’re here for lunch anyways,” Prim says and grabs my arm, dragging me close to her side. “This is my sister Katniss. Katniss this is our new neighbor I was telling you about, Peeta.”

“Hi,” he says and extends his hand over the counter. I take it and consider breaking our rule. It’d be so easy to hex him right here. Get him fired. But his hand is warm and strong, enveloping mine in a firm but not overwhelming grip. And his eyes. I can’t seem to get over the colors. Not just one shade of blue but a thousand all mixed together in fragments.

“Hi,” I manage and then he lets go of my hand as Prim places her order. He’s got a smudge of flour up near his hairline, but that just draws my attention up to his hair. The colors there. Ash and strands of wheat with a few darker near the roots. I think I catch light stubble lining his jaw. A handful of freckles over his nose and a slight sunburn on the back of his neck. As a cat, I get a thousand more smells but as a human, the world is a feast of colors.

“Katniss?” Prim interrupts my staring. I glance at her and she’s smirking at me. “Do you want something to eat?”

“The usual,” I say with a shrug because I was staring at him. I don’t have time to ogle him or write poetry about his eyes. I need to be focused on kicking him out of his house.

“What’s your usual?” Peeta asks me and I cringe inwardly at how stupid I must sound.

“The wild rice soup in a bread bowl,” I say and he smiles. 

“I’ll remember that for next time. Coming right up. Have a seat and I’ll bring it out to you.”

We sit and I lean in close to Prim. “Okay what sort of love spell or potion did you put me under?”

“No magic while in town,” she whispers back. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know! I just...I’m having a hard time breathing or thinking straight! And it’s hot in here!”

“Oh Katniss, you’re not spellbound. You’re  _ attracted _ to him.”

“Am not,” I deny, but my eyes wander back behind the counter as he laughs at something Jackson says to him from the back room. I’ve got no reason to be attracted to him. He’s infringing on our safety. I scowl at her and she sticks her tongue out at me.

“It’s normal, you know. It’s not every day that a handsome young man wanders into town.” She simpers at me.

“Maybe  _ you’re _ attracted to him,” I accuse and she shakes her head, rolling her eyes at me. For some reason, though, the idea of Prim being attracted him makes what’s left of my breakfast curdle in my stomach.

“Here we are,” Peeta says and sets our food in front of us. Both plates are garnished with bright yellow dandelions. I stare at the flower rather than at his forearms as they slide in and out of my view. Flour and light blonde hair, so light it’s barely visible unless the sun illuminates it, dust over his skin and I swallow a lump that’s started to form in my throat.

“I’ll be back to check on you,” he says cheerfully and then leaves us.

“I am not attracted to him,” I emphasize each word but Prim just laughs in my face.

“There are some spirits in this world who are just meant to meet,” she sings at me and I focus on eating my soup. 

I won’t win this argument. Not with the strange way I’m reacting to him. Our parents used to say things like that. How my mother just knew when she first heard my father sing. She used to say that she initially mistook him for a warlock or a forest faerie with how enchanting his voice was. He used to say that she bewitched him with her beauty and her fierceness.

I manage conversation with Prim. Updates on the garden and our business, talk about the coming summer festival. It’s early but we always like to have a booth to sell our goods and maybe have something fun for the children to do.

“Oh I’ll be right back,” she says out of nowhere and disappears before I can ask her where she’s going. Two seconds later, Peeta’s standing by my elbow.

“So how is everything?”

“Fine,” I say and duck my head, hoping that will be the end of this conversation.

“Good.” He lingers and I drop my spoon on my plate to scowl up at him.

“You know that Miss Ripper isn’t really married right?” I ask him and he shrugs.

“Seemed like a harmless story to play along with. If it makes her happy, who am I to judge?” Now I feel like an ass. Even more than I did when I cracked that step under his foot.

Nope. We’re not thinking about that. Because thinking about that leads to memories of his thick muscular thighs and the sight of him in his very flattering boxer briefs.

Enemy. He’s the enemy, I remind myself and shrug.

“Just seeing if you’re fitting in alright. There’s all kinds of local stories and legends you’ll have to catch up on since you’re new around here.”

“Like the ones about my house?” he asks and I nod slowly.

“Several violent deaths associated with it. People say it’s haunted,” I aim for a spooky voice but he seems unaffected.

“It has an atmosphere, I’ll give it that. But there’s no blood dripping from the walls or anything crazy. Actually, Jackson said your family restored your house twenty years ago. Any chance you still have names of suppliers or did you modernize when you moved in?”

I blink and wonder how to refuse helping him without seeming rude. Prim slides back into her seat. “What did I miss?”

“Katniss and I were just talking home remodeling. I’d like to keep the house as true to original as possible but…”

“Oh! Dad kept all kinds of files on that sort of thing,” Prim offers. “Katniss can dig them out and share when you bring that pie over later!” I glare at her, but it has no effect. I wonder if she’s invented a scowl immunity potion. Or maybe my death glares are weakening with age.

“Sure,” I say through my teeth.

“Great,” Peeta says and glances behind him. “I better get back to work. It was nice talking with you, Katniss. Enjoy your meal.”

He walks off and I stir my spoon in my soup.

“I saw that,” Prim mutters.

“What?”

“You were totally checking him out.”

“Was. Not. I am plotting his demise,” I say and turn my body away from the counter so I can eat without the distraction of Peeta Mellark in my periphery.


	4. Chapter 4

**_~~ Peeta ~~_ **

I follow the cat up the walkway. He’s yellow and looks almost feral, but there’s a striking intelligence in his eyes when he pauses on the top porch step and sits to watch my progress.

“Hey there, what’s your name, buddy?” I bend over and let my hand hover for him to decide if he’ll let me touch him. After a second, he butts his head up into my palm and I smile. “Friendly guy. You weren’t the one prowling and screeching yesterday, were you? Hope I didn’t scare you, bud.”

The front door opens before I can knock and I stand upright as Katniss steps onto the porch, shutting the door behind her.

“Buttercup doesn’t like most people,” she says in direct contradiction to what just happened. I don’t want to say that to her, though. Actually I’m not sure that I could. I feel like I’ve been tongue tied since she walked into the bakery this afternoon and basically knocked the wind out of me with that scowl. The one she’s wearing right now.

She’s gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. So much that I was almost tempted to draw her this afternoon when I got off work. Almost. I haven’t drawn in ages and I’m not sure I could do her justice.

“Seems friendly enough,” I manage to say as Buttercup winds his way around my legs. I stand still and she scowls down at the cat.

“Shoo, Buttercup.” The cat hisses, but disappears. I clear my throat and take a step towards her.

“I brought pie, as promised.” Katniss eyes the dish in my hands and then me. I’m starting to wish her much friendlier sister had greeted me instead when she finally sighs and takes the pie.

“Thank you. What flavor is it?”

“Cherry,” I say as she lifts the lid covering it. For one second, her face scrunches up and I’m hit with worries that I must have done something wrong. “You aren’t...allergic are you?”

“No,” she says and shakes her head.

“Have a deep seated hatred of cherries?” She glances up at me and her lips spasm up just a tiny bit. An almost smile as she shakes her head again. 

“Actually the opposite.” Man, I’ll bet her real, full smile is absolutely radiant. She stops my staring with a wave towards my house. “So how is the restoration going?”

“I’ve only just started.”

“Right. I couldn’t find those files my sister mentioned this afternoon.”

“That’s okay. I knew it was a long shot asking. It was twenty years ago.”

“How do you know that?” she asks with sudden narrowed eyes, her voice pinched and sharp.

“Jackson told me,” I explain, for some reason hiking my thumb over my shoulder. It’s the general direction of town, I tell myself.

“Oh, I see,” she says. “Well. Thank you for the pie.”

“You’re welcome. I meant to thank Primrose again for that casserole this afternoon,” I say sheepishly. Except I got distracted by you. “It was delicious.”

“Was?” Katniss asks, her interest seemingly piqued.

“Yeah. And very helpful. I’ve got dinner for at least another two nights.”

“Oh. Listen, I have a lot of work to get done tonight, but thanks again.” She holds the pie up a little.

We stare at one another until it starts to feel awkward. Right. That’s a clear  _ Get lost, Peeta.  _ Here I thought I was actually starting to feel some warmth from her. Somehow I screwed that up. “I should get back, too. House isn’t going to magically restore itself, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” she says, her tone dropping at least ten degrees. I think this might be my fastest screw up on record and I swear I can feel her eyes on me the entire time I cross her yard and back into mine, but I refuse to look. I’m not sure how, but it’s clear that I’ve already offended or angered Katniss. 

Great fresh start.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Haymitch ~~_ **

“Ahh!”

If I had eyeballs, I’d be rolling them. Instead, I move my form through the window and squint into the sunshine. The boy barrels out the back door of the house, shaking his entire frame as a shower of dark spots fall to the ground around him. He swats at his hair and I can’t help but chuckle.

I watch as he curses and stomps on the back porch, his entire body wracked with shudders even after the last arachnid has left him. I wonder if they were real or an illusion she conjured. Probably the latter. Controlling real spiders would take quite a bit of energy on her part.

The bushes shift slightly and I catch a glimpse of pearly gray fur amongst the brambles and weeds. “Not bad, sweetheart.”

She glances back at me and scowls. I chuckle at the sight. The look of disdain so inherent to both Katniss and cats. I don’t even get a tail swish from her. 

The boy has started his restoration project with a combination of fixing the roof and demolition of the interior. Tearing out whatever is rotten or irreparable. Sweetheart must have planted the spider’s nest for him to find.

“He’ll be feeling phantom spiders on his skin for hours,” I say, giving her a slight salute. Normally I’d feel sorry for the boy, but his work has been keeping me up at all hours of the day. The racket is insufferable. Interrupting my afterlife with all this nonsense.

I can almost hear her sneering voice reminding me that I’d come to see things her way. The kid is annoying, but still not bad enough to tempt me into haunting him. He’s kept to the house so far. Not to mention, the girl’s amateur attempts at scaring him off have provided the most entertainment I’ve seen in years. Probably decades.

As we watch, the boy sets his hands on his hips and expels a forceful breath. He quirks his head as though steeling his nerve and then returns inside to keep working. 

“Not bad, but not bad enough.”

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Katniss ~~_ **

The chatter and laughter in the bakery seems louder today than usual. I take my place in line and wait as Peeta and Jackson take turns serving customers. A quick count and I sigh in relief. I’ll be getting Jackson. I take the time while he’s busy to observe Peeta. 

There’s still some casserole left. I carefully tried entering his house this morning and got expelled at the windowsill, my paw stinging. Still, I’ve managed some damage just by sitting perched in the tree or the back garden. Planting the conjured spider nest was a good bit of fun, although ultimately seemed to have little effect. He’s not nearly as easily scared as I’d initially thought.

Perhaps my best bit of magic so far is the howling wind that I surround his walls with every night. The moaning noises seem to disturb his sleep at least a little. Still, he remains stubborn. I’ve already figured this is going to be a long haul to get him out. My will is stronger than his. It has to be. Prim’s safety depends on it.

“Go ahead and pick out your dessert. You want the chocolate chip?”

“No,” the toddler declares certainly and the mother rubs her temple.

“Peanut butter?”

“No!” The child points into the case and Peeta picks up a cookie with the tongs. The child whimpers in frustration and he sets it down.

“It’s okay, I can never decide either,” Peeta says and walks around to the front of the case. He shifts his left leg and bends down to the child’s height. “It's a very important decision. Why don’t you show me so I can see what you see?”

The toddler taps on the glass and the mother sighs.

“You’ll leave fingerprints!”

“It’s okay ma’am. It already needed a good cleaning anyways.” The last is said to the kid and once more, the child points towards the glass, eyes darting up to her mother then to Peeta. “The snickerdoodle.”

He stands up and walks behind the counter, holds the cookie up for the child’s approval. She claps with glee and nods her head as the mother sighs once more and Peeta bags the cookie. 

“An excellent choice,” he says as he hands over the paper sack to the eager little girl. He manages to smile through the transaction with the mother.

The next person he serves makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck. Glimmer Reed.

“Afternoon, Peeta! It’s a gorgeous day out, hopefully you get a chance to enjoy it and don’t have to spend all day working in the hot kitchen.” She leans across the counter towards him and I roll my eyes. She reeks of desperation, but it’s like Prim said. Fresh faces are a novelty around here. 

In fact, about half the people in here today probably stopped by just to gawk at the new guy in town. Although their intentions are likely far more innocent than Glimmer’s. She just can’t help herself, needing to string up every eligible male between the ages of 18 and probably around 45 to add to her collection of boy toys.

“Afternoon, Miss Reed. It is lovely out today. What can I get you this time?”

“A loaf of the sourdough and your number.” 

Ugh really? I pantomime barfing behind her back because I can’t handle it. At least I’ll get the satisfaction of hearing Peeta cave to her charms. Just like every other guy in this town. It’ll just confirm his status as brainless brawn.

“Ah, I don’t have a phone line in just yet, and there’s no reception on the cell towers out there. But the sourdough I can get for you,” Peeta says. 

My eyes fly over to his back as Glimmer continues her attempts at flirting, pouting really, entreating him to let her know as soon as he does because she’s on the town welcoming committee. Or maybe he should stop by her place for a nice,  _ hot _ meal.

I snort at the inflection she keeps using on the word “hot” and his eyes flick up to mine. Briefly. His cheeks seem a bit pink and his lips a bit thin as he smiles at Glimmer. Almost...forced. He turns her down, citing his new job and his house keeping him busy for now.

“Maybe some other time.”

I shake my head and stare at the wood floor instead of looking at him. She keeps flirting, but his answers come only one or two words. Finally, she leaves with a wave and a blatant swishing of her hips.

Before I realize what’s happened, I’m next in line. Jackson worked through two customers while I watched Peeta deflect Glimmer’s advances. He smiles as I step up to the counter.

“Hey, the usual today?” he asks. His voice is friendly but there’s something weary and cautious in his gaze. I must be getting to him after all. I hide my triumph and nod. “Okay, Wild rice soup in a bread bowl. Anything else for you today? Maybe something sweet to take with you after.”

“I don’t...know,” I say and hate the uncertainty in my voice. I’m a little stunned that he remembered. I know he said he would, but I didn’t actually expect him to.

“I’ll start with the soup. Cookies are 99 cents with an entree today if you change your mind about the dessert.”

“Thanks,” I say as I pay and sit at a table.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Peeta ~~_ **

I am so close to being done with the plumbing. Unfortunately, I had to work on the electrical or I’d have my plumbing hooked up and no hot water.

What I’m not close to, is understanding my neighbors. Prim seems to have no problem pausing along the fence between our houses to talk to me. No invitation inside, even though I’ve mentioned that I’d love to see what they’ve done with the place for ideas. And I wonder if it’s because I somehow creep them out or because I somehow angered Katniss. Or maybe I’m just suspicious because of what Jackson said about no one in town having ever been inside their house.

Still no progress with the older sister either. Katniss comes into the bakery for lunch at least once or twice a week. Always orders the same soup in a bread bowl. The first day I offered the dollar dessert to her, she told me to surprise her. I went with the classic chocolate chip. She ate the entire thing eyes closed as though savoring each morsel, and although she shrugged and told me it was “Alright” when it was gone, there was something innately sensual about watching her eat.

Since then, it’s become a game for me to see what kind of reaction I get from her. Every time she comes in, she tells me to surprise her with dessert. Every treat I provide gets a similar reaction. A complete absorption in the taste as she eats and then indifference when I ask her how it was. I am determined to get some kind of positive response or a smile or something out of her.

It’s ludicrous. Especially since there are a few women in town who’ve made clear offers of companionship ranging from friendly lunches to Glimmer Reed’s blatant offers of sex. For some reason, none of them interest me. Nope. I am intrigued by the taciturn woman next door with smoky eyes and the best  _ Fuck off  _ scowl I’ve ever seen.

I’m losing my mind.

I reach out from beneath the cabinet, hand searching for my wrench.

“I know I left it right here.” It’s not the first tool that’s wandered off the past few weeks. But I was sure I left it right next to my hip.

“Argh!” I sit up and smack my head on the cabinet as I drop the warm, furry thing I grabbed instead of my wrench. It takes me a moment to gain my bearings, and once I do, my head is pounding and my phone is ringing. 

I wipe dust off the screen and hang my head for a second before smiling and hoping I sound cheerful when I answer.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Oh good, you’re still alive.”

“Nice to hear from you, too.”

“Are you still camping out in that … that…”

“House?” I suggest and she sighs.

“That is not a house. It is an accident waiting to happen held together by mold and decay.”

“Yes, Mom,” I say instead of responding to her words. “Still camping out and working on it. I’m actually making good progress. Almost got the electrical and the plumbing done!”

My eyes drop to the floor and I recoil at the sight of the bloody, mangled mouse. Gross. I check my hand and see blood there too. Really gross.

“Hmm. You really shouldn’t be doing that since...anyways. I talked to Colonel Crane the other day. He says that it’s not too late. You could still return. All you need is a waiver to reverse your discharge papers.”

“Mom, we talked about this.”

“ _ You _ talked about this. I had no say in the matter.”

“That’s because it’s my life, not yours. Leg blown off by roadside bomb, remember?” I say a little more harshly than I should.

“I don’t much like your tone, Peeta. That’s exactly why you should come back instead of risking your neck on restoring an old house. Your old unit would love to have you back. Colonel Cray was very clear that he’d do everything in his power to make sure you’d be assigned back with them. He said you could work an executive job or something comfortable behind a desk. Your leg won’t be a problem.”

I can hear my own teeth grinding in frustration. I don’t need this right now. It’s been hard enough sleeping with all the weird noises this place makes at night. I’ve only managed it because I’ve had plenty of nights sleeping with the sounds of mortars going off and grown adults crying but trying to muffle the sounds in their sleeves. The sounds will haunt me until the day I die.

“I’m sorry, Mom, what was that?” I say far too loudly. “Can’t hear you!”

“Peeta?”

“Reception here...lousy...call back later!” I hang up just as she’s launching into a tirade, calling my bluff. I run my phone over the screen and stare at the stable image. The four full bars in the top corner. “Huh.”

Setting it aside, I turn to deal with the dead mouse. That isn’t there anymore. Just streaks of blood on the floor. Standing, I follow them across the floor. Claw and paw marks like the damn thing was still alive. In the middle of the foyer, the marks stop.

“Weird,” I say and run a hand through my hair before I remember that I have mouse blood on it. “And still gross.”

Since I can’t find my wrench, I decide to take a break. I need to return that casserole dish to the Everdeens anyways, so I grab it, a couple towels, and my soap and head out to the back garden. I wash the dish first, although I washed it a few days ago. Just want to be sure there are no bits of food left on it. Setting it aside, I strip.

There’s a commotion off to my left and I spin to face it. “Hello?” There are a few bushes still moving, but I really don’t want to encounter an animal while I’m nude. So I keep one eye on the area as I wash myself and dry off.

Once I’m dressed, I check to make sure my mother didn’t call me back then head next door with the casserole dish. As I’m walking out the door, my right foot connects with something solid.

_ Clank _

“Ow!” I look down and sigh. Pick up my wrench and throw it back through the front door, satisfied with the thud it makes as it hits the first step leading upstairs. As I move to close the door, the thing breaks off its hinges in my hands. Even though one of them is a brand new hinge. There’s no way it rusted this fast. “Oh come on!”


	5. Chapter 5

**_~~ Katniss ~~_ **

I scramble back up my tree and flop inside my bedroom window. I grab the corner of my comforter in my mouth and pull it off the bed and over my body to muffle the sound of my heart pounding and my wheezing breath.

He just...dropped trou! In his backyard! Just like that, shamelessly naked with the sun shining on him and the water that covered him.

I should have left and not watched his bath but my paws were planted in the dirt. He heard my initial reaction and I couldn’t move for fear of discovery. Instead I wound up watching the whole thing!

Shaking my head, I deny the heat coursing through me. Not attracted to him. I  _ can’t  _ be attracted to him. He’s a danger to us. 

I can’t set foot in his house until Prim’s spell wears off, but the yard is land and belongs to the earth. I’ve had free reign of the outside and I’ve been able to project some of my powers through the boundaries of Prim’s spell. Perhaps her spell is weaker because I don’t intend bodily harm to him. Everything I’ve thrown at him so far has been an illusion. A mimicry of reality.

Still, projecting all of that past her spell requires a lot of energy. That must explain my reaction to him. I’m just worn out. It’s got nothing to do with his body or my physical reaction to him. Nothing to do with the burn scars on the backs of his legs, curving around his hips, licking up his torso. What happened to him? 

With a groan, I consider curling up right here and taking a nap, but I hear sounds from next door and instead, leap back up to the windowsill.

I can’t see him from here, but I can imagine his foot connecting with the wrench I transported earlier and replaced with the conjured mouse.

“Ow!” he shouts. Then there’s a loud racket of clanking sounds. What did he do, throw it? My brain does this weird schism thing picturing him naked and stretching in the sunshine in all his glory while simultaneously picturing him throwing other things around. So much brute strength under tight control. Another flash of heat goes through me and I mewl.

The sound is accompanied by a loud  _ Snap!  _ from next door.

“Oh come on!” he shouts and I’m frozen immobile. 

Oh no.

No no no. It has been years since I’ve lost control of my magic.  _ Years. _ This is not good.

Before I can even think, I spot him walking through his yard to the gate, then headed towards ours, the casserole dish in his hands.

I leap back into my room. Shift. Throw on my clothes and hurry downstairs. I reach the kitchen just as he knocks. I can’t greet him all flustered like this. But my traitorous feet keep me in motion towards the door.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Peeta ~~_ **

Why am I bothering to knock? No one’s home right now. It’s the middle of the day so Primrose is probably at their store and Katniss is wherever she goes to do whatever it is that she does. The curl of smoke rising up from the chimney is basically a permanent fixture of their home, and I’ve already discovered is no real indication of whether or not they’re home. 

It’s such a fire hazard, but the one time I mentioned it to Prim, she waved off my concern and said they have protective measures in place to prevent the fire from spreading but that Katniss needs to keep it burning constantly for her end of their business. 

There’s also the flock of ravens that periodically shows up and loiters around their house. I’ve seen them on the roof, in the yard. Perched along the tops of the high hedges out back. I’ve convinced myself that’s what I sometimes see in the tree between our houses when I leave early in the morning. This flock of birds. Today they’ve taken over the porch. They watch me with dark eyes and don’t even budge. What kind of weird birds aren’t disturbed by clomping human feet? I should just leave the dish on their porch with a note for them to find later.

I’ve just about given up when the door flies open and Katniss steps through, almost immediately shutting the door behind her and leaning back against it. She stares at me, wide eyed. There’s a pretty flush on her cheeks and a few wisps of her dark hair escape her braid, but the strongest impression that hits me in the moment is that of a cornered animal.

“I just wanted to return this to you,” I say and offer the clean dish to her.

“Thank you,” she says and grabs the dish. She holds it close to her body, crossing her arms over it. Yeah, that’s a definite  _ Fuck off  _ vibe.

“Sorry to...interrupt,” I say and turn to leave.

“Interrupt what? You didn’t interrupt anything,” she says in a rush and I pause to examine her more closely.

Still wild eyed and breathing hard.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Nothing the matter with me. Just...long trek back into the woods.”

“Okay,” I say and then an idea occurs to me. My timing is probably terrible but if what I’ve heard about her is true, Katniss might actually be able to help me. The real question is if she’s willing to help. She seems friendly enough when she comes into the bakery. It’s only here at her house that she turns cold towards me. I decide to take the risk anyways. “Hey, uh I wanted to ask...about my back garden--”

“What about it?” she cuts me off. I’m a little taken aback by her desperate tone and if possible, her cheeks have grown darker. 

Now I’m blushing as I wonder if she’s seen one of my baths, but no. I can’t see any windows on their house from the water pump out back. There’s no way she’s accidentally seen me.

“I’m planning on starting some landscaping work soon, and I noticed some wild berry bushes back there. Just wondering if that’s something I should try to maintain, maybe use the berries in the bakery or if they’re poisonous. I didn’t recognize them and Primrose mentioned you take care of that huge garden you’ve got out back and now you say you trek through the woods so I thought you might be able to tell me what they are.”

“Oh!” she says and then runs a hand over her forehead as her lips break into a smile. A real, genuine smile with a breathy laugh.

Someone may as well kick me in the chest for the way it makes me feel.

“I’d have to see them. Maybe get a cutting for me to look at?”

“Or you could just come over,” I offer. “Maybe you know a trick for keeping a door on its hinges too because I seem to be having problems with that.”

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Haymitch ~~_ **

Soft laughter reaches me and I grumble at the disturbance. Rest. I just want rest. 

As soon as I discern what disturbed me, I swear. The girl’s eyes flick over towards my shed but the boy remains unaffected. He’ll be unable to either see or hear me. The curse of the dead. To be invisible and mute to the mortal living.

“So these are the berry bushes,” the boy tells her, and she bends over to examine them. Like she’s never seen them before and I snort.

“These are nightlock,” she informs him. “They’re extremely poisonous.”

“Good to know. So I should probably tear them out.”

“Not necessarily. They’ll keep a fair number of wild animals away if you’re planning on planting a vegetable garden or something. And while the berries are poisonous, the nutrients they take and give to the soil are complementary to squash plants.”

“Huh, thanks.” She’s actually helping him. Interesting. 

“And the flowers in early spring are gorgeous. Huge purple things with faint blue veins all throughout. Might be a little exotic for what you had in mind...”

The boy motions to the side of the back yard and shrugs. “I’m not sure exactly what I want back here yet. I know I don’t want it to be overly cultivated. I’m not looking to have square corners or a box hedge maze. Maybe something a little wild, but at the very least natural. Besides, I get the feeling this place isn’t something anyone can force into submission.”

They turn to face another part of the yard as he spreads his hands speaks while she nods, cuts in with suggestions every now and then. Her fingers toy with her braid at one point, he leans close to her to say something I can’t pick up. 

She laughs. Honestly laughs.

Very interesting.

“Thought you were trying to get rid of him, Sweetheart. Flirting with him like that’s just gonna make him stick around longer.”

She scowls over at me for just a second before continuing their conversation. I recline back in my chair and eye the chess game, the pieces left untouched since my body ceased to function. Listen to them converse. Mainly because I know my eavesdropping will piss her off.

“This is great, thanks Katniss. I really wasn’t sure where to even start with this part of the restoration.”

“Oh it’s fine. I’ve always been fascinated with plants. My Dad and I actually started a book about local plant life. It’s still rough. Handwritten and has no pictures in it. Mainly I use it to keep the herbs and plants straight in my mind when I’m working. There’s so many of them and one wrong misstep turns a cream meant to heal into one that harms.”

“That’s really cool. Any chance I could take a peek at this book? Get some ideas for back here?”

“Um, I guess so.”

“We could maybe keep talking about this over dinner?”

“Aw that’s cute. He wants to take you on a date. Don’t wear fur or black and leave the broom at home. Too obvious,” I say. The chair flips out from beneath me and I chuckle. She’s getting good. Stronger with each passing day.

“What was that?” the boy asks as I move back towards the window, curious to see how sweetheart will explain the noise of the toppled chair.

“Oh that’s  _ the distillery _ ,” she says meaningfully. He smiles and looks back around at her.

“Is that the source of all the haunted house stories?”

“Which ones have you heard?”

“Most common one is that the owner of this house back in the twenties ran moonshine for a living. Went mad one night. Killed his girl then himself in grief.”

“Legend says he tried to hang himself in that shed,” the girl tells him.

Without meaning to, my eyes lift up to the rafters. To the dust covered, decaying bit of rope still knotted around a solid beam. 

My desire for entertainment has soured.

“Huh. What do you two kids know? He’ll have you burning at the stake in two seconds flat if you ever told him the truth,” I growl and retreat to the comfort of my shadows.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Katniss ~~_ **

“Shit! What the fuck?!” He jumps and leaps back out of the small bathroom. I watch gleefully as Horace slithers across the floor, hissing and upset at the disruption to his nap.

Peeta turns and grasps Horace round the middle, holding the snake away from his body. This is not what I was expecting him to do. I crouch, ready to attack and protect the vulnerable reptile.

“Six years of Boy Scouts says to leave you alone, but dude...behind the toilet? There are better places for you to nap,” he says and shuffles down the stairs as Horace writhes and wraps around his wrist.

I follow on silent feet and watch as Peeta hurries out back and shakes his arm, frantically trying to dislodge the snake.

“Please don’t make me throw you,” he says and Horace finally falls to the ground with a hiss and gentle thud. The snake slithers off to lurk in the bushes, unharmed, and undoubtedly he’ll make his way back beneath the front porch again when he feels it’s safe.

I catch a quick glimpse of Horace and his flicking tongue, his beady eyes warn me not to move him like that again. I would remind the snake that this human is likely to call an exterminator and have Horace killed when he realizes that the snake lives beneath his porch, but Peeta’s calm handling of the snake suggests otherwise. 

For now, Peeta wipes his hands on his jeans and returns to work. I grumble in frustration. He’s persistent, I’ll give him that. Granted, I’ve only had free reign of his house for about a week.

I’ve planted spider nests, broken hinges, burst pipes to spray him in the face, planted fake dead rodents, written eery words on his windows, vanished tools and moved them elsewhere in the house, spent nights scratching around his attic to disrupt his sleep. For nothing!

He’s started working on the roof and basic repairs to the exterior. Nothing I do seems to frighten him away.

To make matters worse, he’s  _ nice _ . He’s kind to everyone he interacts with at the bakery. I’ve been frequenting the place more often for lunch, searching for a weakness that I can’t seem to find. He waits expectantly for my verdict on the food and spends far too much time chatting with me about his ideas for landscaping and gardening. 

I hate myself for answering him. For  _ helping _ him and hurting my chances for getting rid of him. I hate him for being so...amiable when I turned down his offer of a dinner date. He seems just as content to be a friend as he would anything else and I hate him even more for making me think of him while I’m dreaming at night.

While he’s initially startled by what I’ve done to “haunt” his house, he shakes it all off and keeps going. Dismisses them all as annoyances, pranks, figments of his imagination. The level of denial is astonishing.

I catch movement and glance up to scowl at Buttercup. He’s been following me for the past week, too. I’m sure he’s telling Prim everything that I do to Peeta, but I can’t bring myself to care. Instead, I slink off to Haymitch’s shack, the one place I know Buttercup won’t follow me. The presence of a ghost assures that.

Wriggling into the dress on the floor, I shift back to human form and smooth the fabric down over my body. I glare into the shadows as I hear Haymitch’s slow clapping.

“Excellent job, Sweetheart. You’ve really shown that mortal a terrifying time.”

“Well what do you suggest I do? You’re the real ghost!”

He guffaws and then reveals himself to me. Right in front of my face. I jump back and he only laughs louder.

“You’re holding back. Can’t figure why when you were so adamant about getting rid of him in the first place.”

“Okay, well what do you--” I stop myself as something occurs to me. He’s right. I have been holding back. I could do so much more to scare Peeta away from the house. Why am I holding back? I need to get rid of him.

But no sooner do I think it than I recall the way he treats everyone with kindness and patience. It doesn’t seem to matter how much I disturb his sleep or try to frighten how, no matter how frustrated he gets with the problems I create in the house, he remains unfailingly kind to everyone he comes across. Cordelia Ripper, Delly Cartwright and her overwhelming stream of endless chatter, every child who steps foot in the bakery. Even Glimmer Reed has received gentle rejections from him. Prim and myself have certainly already benefited from his kindness. He’s polite and quiet and that cherry pie was practically orgasmic. Not that his baking abilities mean anything about what kind of person he is. His treatment of people does. He’s friendly and open but has backed off every time I throw a wall up to prevent myself from actually liking him.

But still, that kindness freely given is directed at people he believes are just like him, not witches. He could just as quickly turn on us as soon as he learns the truth. The longer he stays, the more likely it becomes he’ll see something. Which means he has to go.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Primrose ~~_ **

“Two more stages and it’s done,” I tell Buttercup and pet him under his chin.

_ An excellent batch, Mistress. Perhaps your best yet.  _

“It’ll be ready just in time for the summer solstice. I’m just glad we might finally get to use it!”

Katniss enters the kitchen then, grumbling under her breath. I stifle a smile as she mutters to herself and keeps walking into the library. I hear the sounds of books moving around.

“No...No...No good,” she says, her voice increasingly strained as she discards one spell book after another. I tilt my head towards the library and Buttercup slinks after her. A minute later, the sounds of a search stop. “Yes!”

She rushes back through with a book under her arm and Buttercup returns to me. Katniss pauses in the doorway leading to the back stairs and turns back around.

“What are you working on?”

“Why?” I ask innocently.

“It’s not a potion I recognize. It smells like yeast or...soap?” she wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “I’m spending too much time as a cat. It’s affecting me.”

As she runs out of the room, I glance down at Buttercup and can’t stop the grin spreading across my face.

“It doesn’t smell awful to her!”

_ That only means her defenses are weakening. _

“But it’s the first step. Finally!”

_ Do not get too excited yet, Mistress. It appears that the game is escalating. _

“Oh no. What book did she get?”

_ Accessing Beyond the Veil _

“She can’t seriously plan to call up more ghosts to that house. It’s already got one. Oh Haymitch is not going to like this.”

_ Perhaps we should escalate our efforts as well, Mistress. _

“I can’t stop her, Buttercup. She’s already too powerful. She even managed to get past my threshold protection spell to some degree. All I can do is try to disrupt her power and buy us time.” He blinks at me and I tilt my head at him with a smile. I pause in my stirring to pet him and he arches into my touch with a happy purr. “You’ve got an idea, don’t you?”

_ With your permission, I have a few. _


	6. Chapter 6

**_~~ Katniss ~~_ **

The book hovers in front of me. With a flick of fingers, I turn the pages, searching for what I need. It’s no use. I’ve searched a dozen times already. This book is useless to me.

Spells for helping mortals commune with the dead, which would be promising if I could Haymitch into the house or Peeta into the shed, but I have to hold his hand to make that one work. No good.

Spells for summoning an army of corpses. Which I considered for maybe a minute because that would certainly scare Peeta out of the house, but the margins were filled with dire warnings about the millions of way that particular spell could backfire. The dead are not easy to control.

Tell me about it. If they were, Haymitch would have already gotten rid of Peeta for me.

Also that spell could easily have put Prim at risk, an unacceptable solution.

Spells for helping souls cross the veil between planes of existence. That one’s extremely complex and involves months of work. It’s also only designed to move a caught spirit fully into the realm of the dead. There is a page for a spell to summon a dead spirit back to this plane and essentially turning them into a ghost, but the spell itself was written over and made unreadable by a warning in massive lettering:

_Know not ye what soul thou summons forth. Cursed be the living what rends the spirit from rest._

At first I rolled my eyes at that, especially the overly dramatic language, but then it occured to me that perhaps the warning means that I can’t control _which_ ghost I’d be calling up. I might call up my father...or I might call up Hitler.

There’s pages upon pages about the boundaries between the planes of existence and the veils that separate them. Theories on why I can hear and see Haymitch but a mortal like Peeta can’t. Explanations for how a ghost’s spirit can be tied to one location, which explains what Haymitch meant when he told me he couldn’t haunt the house proper. He literally cannot leave the shed because his spirit is tied to it.

All of which is fascinating, but does nothing to solve my pesky neighborly plague.

With a huff, I slam the book shut and call it back into my hand. I sniff at the acrid smoke scent and glance at my other hand on the ground, the area surrounding it singed.

“No,” I groan out loud. I keep losing control.

Taking a few deep breaths, I mutter the incantation and repair the damage I inadvertently wrought. I came out here to the woods not just to hunt and gather but also to think. Normally the fresh, piney air would help clear my head, but today it’s done nothing.

I stand and gather my things to head home. Perhaps another search of the library will yield a more helpful book.

As I’m crossing the stream, something in the muddy banks catches my eyes. I stare at it and smile as an idea takes form in my mind.

A few hours later, I prance across the tree branches, happy with my work tonight. Normally I’d stick around to see the results, but I’m tired. Haunting a house takes a lot of effort. I don’t even bother scaring away the meddlesome ravens perched in my tree. I’m feeling downright charitable towards them tonight.

In the safety of my bathroom, I shift back and don a nightdress, humming to myself and brushing my teeth quickly. Maybe I’ll be able to hear his reaction even from here.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Peeta ~~_ **

Trudging up the stairs, I pause on the landing and stare at the glistening dark footprints that lead from somewhere upstairs down to the window. Handprints in all the right places for someone to have opened the window. An eerie breeze whistles in through the opening.

“I thought you tried to hang yourself, not jump from a window,” I say to no one in particular and tap a finger in the dark goo. My finger comes back black and I rub the stuff between two fingers. “Tar...blood would have been creepier.”

Leaning out the window, I judge the distance and shake my head. “That’d maybe break a leg. No one’s dying from this height unless you swan dive.”

I sigh and shut the window, make a note on my phone to look up how to remove tar tomorrow. Right now I just want to go to bed. I wound up staying late at the bakery working on a wedding cake and then got lost in the lumber yards, searching for the right planks I’ll need to finish the exterior of the house. A late dinner and then the day was gone.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Katniss ~~_ **

Nothing. Not even a shout from the house next door.

I am not dealing with an ordinary human here. I grumble and sigh, flopping over in my bed and punching my pillow to get more comfortable and take out some of my frustration. As I settle in again, the scents hit my nostrils and my eyes fly open. I shift to my cat form just to be sure and yell as soon as the scents register.

Yeast, sugar, cinnamon, dill, lemon, and under them all, the one unique to a certain human scent I do not want in my bed. Back to human, I sit up and yank back covers until I find it. A light green shirt with the Three J Bakery logo on it.

“What the hell?!” I shout. How did this thing wind up in my bed?!

I hide the thing in the back of my closet and pace my room. I didn’t bring it with me. Is it possible I conjured it? But why _his_ shirt and why under my pillow?

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Peeta ~~_ **

“Bloody footprints this time. How original.” I sigh and stare up at the ceiling, waiting for something to crawl through and devour my spirit. Might be a relief. When nothing happens, I add bleach and maybe oxyclean to my shopping list on my phone. I don’t know if it’s real blood or just some kind of prank, but I’m not taking any chances.

I grab a flashlight and follow the footsteps to where they start. Up into the attic. With a sigh, I push open the creaky door to see if I can locate the source. I sweep the light back and forth. There’s no sign of blood up here. Just a bunch of spiders, what looks like an old bird’s nest, some small rodent bones, and a dusty old trunk. Since I’m up here, I haul the trunk back down the stairs. Drop it on the floor and shove it to the room I’ve been sleeping in. I need it out of the way so I can finish some of the wiring and the insulation up there anyways.

Once that’s done, I strip down to my shorts and get ready for bed. As I sit on the air mattress, I tip the pills into my palm and stare at them. Shuffle them for just a second before tossing them back dry. I should probably find a doctor around here who’s willing to refill my prescriptions. Otherwise I’ll have to find time to make my way back into the city. I really don’t want to do that and risk running into my mother.

It’s probably a bad sign that I’m using the sleeping pills again. Probably means that my mother and brother are right about me buying this place. The past week, the nights have been long and arduous. The strange noises, the moaning that seems to emanate from the walls as though the house itself is in pain have made sleep difficult or even impossible, not mention all the other things I keep finding.

But since I’m stubborn and refuse to go down without a fight or admit to my family that I have yet again made another stupendously dumb decision, I turned to the sleeping pills. They’ve been working for the most part. I get more sleep with them than I do without them at least.

I cap and toss aside the bottle, extinguish my lanterns before falling back in bed. The days and nights are warm now, although I’ve left the window open to allow in a breeze. Had to cover it with netting after the first night ended with my skin peppered with bug bites.

As I lay there, the moaning begins anew and I lift a middle finger to the walls.

“Fuck you, angry spirits.”

If there are ghosts in this house, then they’re not malevolent. They’ve had more than enough opportunities to decapitate, disembowel, or otherwise destroy me. Although the bloody footprints are new, I’m just dumb enough to stay put for one more night. I’d be dead if I took to the roads now anyways. Too tired to drive. I figure the ghosts here can’t do much more damage than I would myself by plowing my truck into a ditch.

Besides, a little tortured moaning in the night is nothing I haven’t dealt with before. The only downside to the pills is that with them keeping me asleep, there’s no escape from the other ghosts in my life.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Katniss ~~_ **

“What am I doing wrong?” I wonder out loud as I stare through the tree branches into the still vacant room across the way. It’s the master suite in his house so I imagine that once he’s gotten enough work done on it, he’ll move into it. For now though, he seems immune to all the ghostly, grisly obstacles I’m throwing at him. He flipped me off tonight.

Not me exactly, but the ghosts that I’m attempting to recreate. He didn’t even flinch at the bloody footprints! My only glimmer of hope right now is that he is getting frustrated and angry. It’s not as good as scared witless, but it will have to do.

With a groan, I find a nightdress, brush my teeth and fall into bed. I take a deep breath and listen to the fruits of my labors next door. He’s dead to the world right now anyways so I end the connection and the moaning sounds cease.

“Dumbass, stubborn human,” I grumble and turn over to punch my pillow. As I settle, a scent hits my nostrils and I groan as I feel under the sheets and find another one of his shirts. “Not again.”

Now I’ll be dreaming of him naked instead of planning more ways to get him out of town.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Peeta ~~_ **

I search through the bottom of my bags and curse. I hadn’t realized how close I was to needing to do laundry. I’ve got no clean work shirts. Guess I’ll just have to wear one that’s dirty. The one from yesterday isn’t too bad.

I’m sluggish this morning, no doubt an effect from another night kept partially awake by the moaning walls and then having to drag myself out of sleeping pill induced stupors. The more I do to the house, the less considerate the ghosts in the walls get. I guess it makes sense. If someone were tearing through my house, I’d want to know why.

Upending my laundry bag, I search the pile. Again. And again.

Zero work shirts. I have zero work shirts in my dirty laundry. How is that even possible? I know I haven’t done laundry this week.

I spend so much time searching the house that by the time I shower and dress, I’m late getting into the bakery. I feel even more ridiculous trying to explain why I’m late and why I’m wearing a plain white t-shirt to Jackson. She stares at me like I’m losing it. Maybe I am.

“Maybe you should...take a day off tomorrow,” she suggests. “I’ll call Kaitlin and see if she can swap with you.”

I agree and set to work. Today it’s another wedding cake, but summer is wedding season.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Katniss ~~_ **

I groan and stretch as I wake. This isn’t working. I need to step up my game even more, but how do I do that without risking serious bodily harm to Peeta? I roll over and my hand flops onto the sheets. Not my sheets. The fabric is too coarse for that. Slowly I open my eyes and shout, leaping from my bed with my heart pounding.

I only just catch a flash of yellow fur darting out my bedroom door and down the hall.

“Buttercup!” I bellow and charge after him, carefully holding the offending article of clothing in my fingers. I find him in the kitchen, cowering in Prim’s arms. “I will flay you alive and feed you piece by piece to the leeches in the lake!”

“Katniss, you’re scaring him!”

I brandish the pilfered clothing accusingly and Prim snorts in laughter. “This isn’t funny, Primrose! His work shirts are one thing, but his underwear!?”

She laughs again and I glare at her cat. Sometimes it’s annoying how they can communicate without words. A connection of mind and spirit that drives me crazy.

“What does the thief have to say for himself?”

“Only that he’s bringing you items that you desire.”

“No! I do not desire Peeta! And I’m going to prove it. Tonight, I am not holding back. He’s getting the life scared out of him and we’re getting our privacy back!”

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Primrose ~~_ **

Katniss storms from the room and I continue to pet Buttercup and send him silent praise. I wait until she’s dressed and left the house before I smile at him and feed him an entire dish of his favorite salmon.

“Good boy,” I tell him as he eats.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Peeta ~~_ **

The morning flies by, and I’m so engrossed in frosting this cake that Jackson has to come remind me to help out with the lunch rush. Then I’m absorbed in that to the point that I startle when I hear her voice talking to Jackson.

“Actually, I needed to um speak with Peeta about something. I can wait.”

I turn my head and give her a weak smile. Katniss bites her lip and looks at the floor. Odd.

Jackson moves on to the next customer in line and I finish with my current one before shifting to stand in front of Katniss.

“Hey,” I greet her. “Soup and a dessert?”

“Yes, please. Actually I -- that’s not why I came in here. This is so embarrassing but,” she doesn't finish and instead hands me a brown paper grocery sack. “My sister’s cat is apparently a kleptomaniac.”

I glance down at the contents and laugh. She stares at me like I’m crazy, and maybe I am, but I’m actually just relieved that there’s a logical explanation for one part of the insanity in my life right now. I pull out one of my work shirts and call over to Jackson.

“Friendly neighborhood cat burglar,” I explain and she laughs.

“At least it’s not a ghost burglar.”

Katniss makes a strange noise and I set the bag aside. “Thanks for returning them, Katniss. I was starting to think I was going insane.”

“Not this time,” she says and toys with the end of her braid.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Primrose ~~_ **

_Mistress. Look._

I pause and look across the street. Through the front window of the bakery, I can just make them out sitting across from one another at a table. Katniss laughs at something Peeta says to her and he smiles. The expression so joyful and relieved that I almost sigh out loud.

“Oh my.”

_Perhaps she will not be trying to scare him away tonight._

“No, she probably will.” I say but then grin when Peeta offers her a plate and she takes a cookie off of it. Katniss takes a bite and shakes her head, holding a hand over her mouth as she speaks and this time, Peeta’s laughing. They’ve both been looking so worn out lately that I’m glad to see them enjoying themselves. “But I have a feeling she’s going to fail.”

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Peeta ~~_ **

“We can fit you in two weeks from now. Will that be acceptable?”

Probably not, I want to say. I’ll bet that if I told her I’m hearing ghosts in my house she’ll get me seen real fast. It’s my own fault for procrastinating so long, but after my experiences with the army, I’m a little leery of seeing any doctors. But I think I probably need it right now.

“That’s fine,” I say as I park my truck in front of my house, because what other choice do I have. She rattles off the date and time of their next available appointment and suggests I visit their website in advance to fill out the patient paperwork.

Heading inside, I pause and then flip the switch just inside the door, groaning when nothing happens. Before I start plastering the walls back up, I need to make sure the electric is all working and I can’t seem to find the mistake that’s keeping it from functioning.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Katniss ~~_ **

Everything is ready.

I wait in the attic and watch the moon rise over the trees. Tonight, I get rid of Peeta Mellark once and for all. He’s already frustrated and angry. All I need to do now is give him a slight nudge towards terrified and he’ll give up. Tomorrow, he’ll be out of our lives for good.

For one moment, I am actually sad. Then I think of the last town my family and I fled. The all encompassing fear as Dad packed our bags and Mom disappeared for hours to lay spellwork to protect our retreat into the mountains. The uncertainty that she might not have made it back to us before we needed to leave. I won’t make Prim do that. We have a good thing here in this town where people appreciate a homemade remedy and don’t look too closely at the ingredients. Where they look the other way when strange things happen near our house because of its proximity to one they already believe is haunted.

No it’s better this way.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Peeta ~~_ **

“It’s almost two in the morning! Don’t you spirits have some kind of ghostly gathering to go to? A bonfire to dance around? Or are you waiting for me to go to sleep so you can bring my brains as part of the banquet? Because if that’s the case...you have to actually let me go to sleep first,” I shout at the moaning air. For one moment, all is blissfully silent.

Then there's the sound of metal clanking. Once.

_Clank._

Then silence.

I close my eyes.

_Clank._

The lights flicker overhead then go out. Cracking one eye open, I glare at the ceiling.

_Clank._

“What else you got?”

I’m almost sorry I asked. Between the pull of the sleeping pills and the slowly building creep factor, I’m already on edge. Hair stands on end all over my body as cold air trickles over me. Almost like a caress. The lights flicker again. Then I hear something ignite out in the hallway and lift my head. Just enough to watch as the door creaks slowly open.

I hold my breath and watch as a glowing figure walks by the door. A woman in a white wedding dress, fire trailing down her back. It’s not real fire, though. They’re unearthly. The flames are pure white and seem to move as part of her dress.

Now I know I must be dreaming. Trapped in nightmares as she turns towards me, her face obscured by a veil. She gets closer and my heart pounds loudly, but I can’t seem to move my legs. The sheets twist around my ankle and wrists, holding me down.

Just as a scream is forming in my throat, she vanishes. The house goes silent. I can’t even hear the crickets outside. It’s broken by a soft sigh, right in my ear.

Almost an erotic noise. And gooseflesh erupts almost painfully over my skin.

And then... _clank._

“Okay fine! You win!” I say and swing my leg over the side of the bed, grumbling as I attach my prosthesis and grab a flashlight. I stand and pause. When did the sheets let me go? There hasn’t been another sound since I spoke. Very slowly, I sit back down on the bed.

_Clank! Clank!_

“Oh for fuck’s sake! I haven’t really slept in four nights!” I stand back up and move to the hallway. My entire body is sluggish and heavy, being pulled under as I fight against the drugs.

I look one way and then the other, shining the flashlight in all corners and waiting for some telltale movement.

“You remember what sleep is? What the lack of it does to a body? Look, I’ll make a deal with you. I work baker’s hours. Know what that means? It means I am out of this house at four thirty in the morning, six days a week! It’s still dark out then. Even during summer. So if you let me sleep in peace until four in the morning, you can haunt to your heart’s content until the sun comes up. I really don’t want to call an exorcist or a priest on your ectoplasmic ass, because honestly that’ll just hurt us both. I know it’s technically your house first and the fact that I’ve got a mortgage on this place and sunk everything I have into it means jack shit to you, but I’ve got nowhere else to go.” My voice cracks and I clear my throat, feeling pathetic whining to a bunch of ghosts.

“You understand that, right? It’s why you’re still here, isn’t it? There’s nowhere else to go.” Nothing. No response. I’m probably crazy, but I’ve started this, might as well end it. “Look we can share this house and everyone can be mostly content. If you just let me get some sleep at night. Do we have a deal?”

Silence. Of course. I scrub a hand over my face and sigh.

“I’m just...so tired. It’s hard enough getting sleep after...just clank once for ‘no’ and twice for ‘yes,’ okay?”

I wait for a few seconds and am about to give up and have myself committed when I hear it.

_Clank. Clank._

“Thank you,” I breathe out the phrase in relief and trudge back to bed. I sink onto the mattress and remove my prosthetic before sprawling back.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Katniss ~~_ **

At the first loud snore, I move into the cracked ajar doorway and stare at him. He negotiated with ghosts for peace and household sharing. Even in his exhaustion, anger, and frustration, he attempted diplomacy. Compromise. If he’s willing to do that, maybe Prim was right. Maybe he wouldn’t be bothered by having a pair of witches as neighbors. Perhaps he can be trusted.

I paw the ground and shift restlessly. Guilt. I feel guilty.

Of course just because he made such a deal, doesn’t mean he’ll keep it. And how was I supposed to know how he’d react? It’s not like I can just ask him how he feels about living with witches and ghosts.

Padding over to his mattress, I crawl over the twisted sheets and examine his features in sleep. Relaxed and kind. My gaze is drawn to his eyelashes, so long and blonde. How do those things not get tangled when he blinks? Through a cat’s eyes, they appear almost silver in the moonlight.

I imagine that everyone looks innocent and trustworthy in their dreaming state. But for some reason, I curl up on his pillow next to his head. I just need a moment to think. And he smells even better than his shirts up close like this.

It’s the last thought I have before sleep claims me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not make me bring my Katniss Defense Squad A-Game to this chapter. Otherwise, all comments welcome. ;) Love you all! <3 KDNFB


	7. Chapter 7

**_~~ Katniss ~~_ **

Steady tones of an alarm wake me and I blink my eyes open, confused as the focus shifts and changes, everything clear in the dark.

I’m still in Peeta’s house. Oh no. I need to get out of here now.

In my attempt to move, I flop off the pillow and stare at the paws stretched in front of me.

I slept here in cat form.

He stirs beside me and then grunts before falling still. I can’t let him see me. Slowly, as to not disturb him, I slink out of his bed and out the door.

I’ve just made it to the broken window when the sounds of his alarm stop. Leaping through, I hurry across the branches to an area of thick foliage. I rest there to catch my breath and stretch my muscles. I’ve never spent an entire night transformed like this and I’m not sure what the effects will be. 

I focus on running through a mental check of how I feel rather than think about what happened last night. It doesn’t work. My mind wanders anyways as I hear him exit his house and bathe in the backyard. 

What did he mean when he said he had nowhere else to go? I know I’ve seen him talking to someone on his phone. The fact that I know nothing about who those people were just shoves my guilt further in my face.

I knew nothing about Peeta before I set about trying to run him off. My thoughts keep me occupied for a time and then he’s walking out to his truck. Peeta sits in the seat for a moment with the door open and lets his head fall back on the seat. He still looks so tired. It’s another punch of guilt that has me wondering once more about what happened to him. How did he lose his leg and where did those burn scars on his back come from?

I’ve treated him so unfairly. I have treated him no better than people have treated my family in the past. Shame doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel.

Peeta starts his truck then and drives off towards town. As soon as he’s out of my hearing range, I pad back over to his house and shift into human form. It’s easier to perform magic in this shape and I ignore the fact that I’m wandering around his home naked as I undo hexes and curses, erase all the evidence of what I did to him the past few days.

At least now he’ll be able to start using his shower and lights. For good measure, I perform a couple of quick spells to make that even easier.

Then I head back to my own house and curl up in bed to rest.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Peeta ~~_ **

I flip the switch out of habit and jump when the lights turn on.

“You gotta be kidding me,” I mutter. I spend the next hour checking my wiring job and the fuse box, throwing my hands up in the air when I can’t find any changes. Nor can I find any evidence of the ghosts haunting my house. I’ve about convinced myself that I’ve dreamed up the entire thing, including the small shadowy figure I swear I saw darting out of my room this morning before I turned my alarm off. That’s what it must have been. An elaborate hallucination that is just one more sign that I really need to see the doc in two weeks.

It’s on my second trip down the stairs to maybe see if the water heater is working too that I notice the sunny yellow flowers sitting on the vanity in the bathroom. “The fuck…?”

Not only that, the entire room looks like it’s been scrubbed clean. Spotless.

“Okay, I appreciate the effort, but there’s no need for you to do this on the regular,” I say to the walls. There’s no answer, but then again, the sun is still up. “I’m talking to a ghost...who cleans bathrooms and leaves flowers. I really must be out of my mind.”

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Katniss ~~_ **

I bounce on my toes and wait for Peeta to open the door. He’s dressed in jeans and a white shirt, his cheeks smeared with plaster that means he’s working on the walls.

“Here,” I say and shove the mug at him, glad it has a lid to keep it from sloshing all over our hands. “It’s tea.”

“I...thank you?” he says and I sigh.

“Sorry. It’s been a long couple of days.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he says but still doesn’t take the tea.

“It’s herbal. We sell it in our shop. It’s just...you’ve been looking a little tired, and this might help you sleep.”

“Oh,” Peeta says and takes the mug from my hands. He pops the lid and inhales the scent. “What’s in it? Chamomile?”

“There’s some of that, but this is much more effective.”

His eyes jump up to mine and he shifts on his feet. “How effective?”

“It’s okay if you don’t want it. I get it, not everyone is into herbal,” I say and reach to take it back, biting back tears that my peace offering is being rejected.

“No, it’s...Katniss it’s not that,” he says as he pulls the mug in closer to his chest. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “It’s just sometimes I don’t...dream about pleasant things and using something to make me stay asleep makes them worse.”

“Worse how?” I ask. 

“Worse because I can’t wake up all the way and then I can’t tell what’s real and what’s just a dream.”

“Oh,” I say and drop my gaze to the floor, hoping he won’t see the guilt in my eyes. I’m feeling worse about what I did to him by the second. “Well, this tea doesn’t really work well if you mix it with other sleeping aids like an Ambien or something and it’s meant to relax your mind more than anything else, not trap it in sleep. And relaxed minds usually don’t conjure up bad dreams.”

I’m finally able to look at him. I probably said too much.

“Results may vary,” I offer and he laughs.

“Good to know,” he says and glances down at the mug. He sighs then and steps back, waving me inside with a sweep of his hand. “I’m being so rude, I’m sorry. It’s been a long couple of days for me too. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Hence the tea,” I offer with a lift of one shoulder as I step across the threshold and he shuts the door behind me. “You’ve got the electric going, I see.”

“Yeah, took me a lot longer than I was expecting.”

“So then what’s next?”

“Walls and windows, I think.” I nod in agreement. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know if you’ve ever been inside this place. You want a tour?”

“Sure,” I say with a nod.

He’s cheerful and open with his ideas, pausing occasionally to ask what I think, since Prim and I live in a restored house from the same era. I make a note to actually look for those files Prim mentioned as I follow him around.

When we reach the room he’s sleeping in, he blushes and moves to shut the door so I don’t see the messy, unmade mattress on the floor.

“That’s um--” I reach out to stop his arm and point at the old trunk I hadn’t even noticed last night. There’s a monogram etched onto the latch.

“What’s that?”

“Oh I found that in the attic. The place was basically cleared out of all belongings except that.”

“E.R.T.,” I mumble the letters.

“Do those mean anything to you?” he asks and I shake my head. “Damn. I was hoping maybe you’d know something about my ghosts.”

“Your ghosts?” I ask and peer up at him as he shrugs.

“I haven’t ruled it out as a possibility yet.”

“Keeping an open mind.”

“You think I’m crazy.”

“No,” I say and shake my head. It won’t hurt if he still believes there are ghosts, since there technically is one, as long as he doesn’t try to harm them. It might work to my advantage to distract him from the witches living next door. “We’ve seen all sorts of weird things over the years.”

He actually smiles at that. It spreads slowly across his lips, the way the sun rises in the morning and a warmth equal to that of the sun courses through me. I point back at the trunk and clear my throat. “Have you looked inside it?”

“Not yet. I thought that might seem...disrespectful.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” I agree.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Primrose ~~_ **

“You disappeared for almost an hour with a freshly brewed mug of guaranteed restful sleep and peaceful dreams. What are you up to now?” I ask as Katniss wanders into the library. I keep my eyes on the pages in front of me and flick a finger to serenely flip to the next.

“I was thinking...maybe I’ve been handling this neighbor situation less than ideally.” That gets my attention. I glance up at her and Buttercup’s purring stops as my fingers go still on him.

“Go on,” I prompt her and she flops onto the floor at my feet, crossing her legs.

“I was trying to protect you.”

“I know that.”

“But I may have gone too far last night and...he tried to strike a bargain with the ghosts I’ve been...imitating. A bargain to peacefully share the house. That made me think maybe I should give him a chance.”

“Oh good,” I say happily and swipe the book aside to hover next to me. I lean forward and smile. “So I was thinking--”

She holds up a hand to cut of my words. “We do this my way, Prim. I feel bad about what I did but we still can’t trust him completely.”

“But--”

“At least hear my plan.”

“Fine,” I huff and cross my arms petulantly.

“Some of the things he might see around here could still be explained away as being caused by ghosts.”

“We’re lying to him?”

“We lie to literally everyone in our lives, Prim. How is Peeta any different?”

“You tell me,” I say and she scowls at me. She continues, ignoring my jab.

“Neighborly chit chat is fine. No inviting him into the house or the back garden.” I nod in agreement. “No confessions or blatant hints. And absolutely  _ no _ magic in front of him. I’m going to continue to observe him and we’ll decide later if we can let our guard down a little.”

“You just want to see him naked again,” I smirk and she blushes to the roots of her hair.

“Primrose.”

“Alright fine. I agree to your conditions. How do you plan to observe him? A date maybe?”

“No. By talking to him. Befriending him.” She almost chokes on the word ‘befriend.’ We don’t really have friends around here. We know people, but friendship implies a sort of trust that we can’t afford. At least not yet, but hopefully we will soon. “And no more tricks with Buttercup. Are we clear?”

“Fine, we’re clear.”

In her absence, I lean back in my chair and tap my fingers on my arms.

_ It is progress, Mistress. _

“Yes, but we’re getting close to the summer solstice. Then it’s only three months before the autumnal equinox. You know what I need to happen by then. The timing has to be just right. And she’s taking forever.”

_ It will not work at all if you force her. It must be done willingly. With an open heart. _

“I know that. I just need a catalyst. A way to speed things up.”

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Peeta ~~_ **

“I’m so absorbed in my sketching that I don’t hear Katniss approach. Not even opening the gate. It’s only when the porch creaks beneath her footstep on the loose board that I startle and look up from my sketch.

“Hey, sorry to bother you.” She looks radiant. Cheeks flushed and hair a little mussed from the summer breeze. As usual she’s dressed in greens and browns, comfortable pants and a shirt. Clothes made for gardening or hiking through the woods.

“No,” I say and set aside my sketchbook to stand up. Her eyes follow it before returning to my face. “No bother.”

“You draw?”

“Yeah, I haven’t in awhile. It’s just a hobby.”

“Why just a hobby?”

“Mom wouldn’t allow any of her sons to grow up as starving artists,” I explain with a shrug.

“Sons...plural,” she prompts.

“Yeah. I’ve got two older brothers. Graham runs the family business, a bakery,” I say with a smile. 

“Oh so that runs in the family.”

“Yep. Then Ryen is a lawyer. Both of them are married with kids. Two daughters apiece. Third one for Graham is on the way.” Her face scrunches up in that cute expression I still haven’t figured out yet. “What is that look for?”

“Just trying to picture you as an uncle.”

“I am the coolest uncle ever. It’s the robot leg.” The words are out of my mouth before I realize and she tilts her head at me. I clear my throat awkwardly and lift my pants leg a little for her to see. Her eyes dip down then back up, and I drop my pants leg.

I watch her ears turn pink and kick myself for telling her like that. I know how it can make some people uncomfortable. It constantly feels like I’m taking two steps forward and then one giant leap back with her.

“Anyways. All that adds up to me being The Family Disappointment.”

“Why?” she asks with a shake of her head. She sets the paper sack she’s carrying on the porch and I spot one of my screwdrivers and a chisel on top. 

“Is that Buttercup’s loot?”

“Um yes, he seems to have graduated from shirt theft to committing tool heists.” I chuckle at that.

“Tell him all he has to do is ask to borrow them. I mean, who am I to prevent him from building his own ultimate kitty palace?”

She bursts out laughing and a thrill runs through me, just like it did the other day at the bakery when we were debating the merits of including nuts in otherwise sweetly flavored cookies such as chocolate chip or oatmeal.

“Don’t give him any ideas. I swear if he had an opposable thumb, he’d be plotting world domination.” We fall silent and she rocks on her toes. “I put a few tins of the tea I brought you the other night in there too. How’d that work out?”

“Really well, actually. Thank you.”

“Well, I’m glad I helped,” she says and moves back towards the steps, her feet scraping over the boards. I’m not sure if it’s my hopeful imagingings or if she’s lingering. I’m working up the courage to ask her if I’ll see her in the bakery for lunch tomorrow when she speaks again. “I should get back. Get dinner started.”

“Right. Thanks again.”

She waves and then she’s gone. 

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Katniss ~~_ **

I make my way up to the roof to watch the sunset. Tucking my paws beneath me, I lay down and watch the glowing orb descend in the sky. Prim is busy filling the kitchen with clashing smells of potions, a last surge of activity to get ready for the Midsummer Festival. I should be down there helping, and she should have gotten most of this done last week rather than spending her time playing spy with Buttercup.

I don’t feel too bad abandoning her. Besides, I’d mostly be in the way and I have more important things to figure out. Like who exactly our neighbor is.

Strangely enough, I’m not very good at this befriending my neighbor thing. Must be all that practice I have.

The last time we spoke, I felt as though the words clunked out of my mouth, awkward and ridiculous. But I have a vague idea forming in my head, on how to spend more time with him, getting to know him. I’ll have to visit the bakery for lunch tomorrow and ask him if he’s interested.

As darkness falls, I notice movement across the yard. Buttercup dragging something out of Peeta’s house and into our yard. He stashes it under the high hedges and then prances back towards Peeta’s house.

I don’t think so, spy. Your Mistress promised no more tricks.

He can’t hear my thoughts they way he can Prim’s so I rise. It only takes a few deft leaps to reach the open window to the master suite. Peeta replaced the window today, but he’s still keeping it open, most likely to air the house out as he works, but it’s conveniently giving me easy access to follow Buttercup.

I slink through the room, sticking close to the walls. I pause in the doorway and listen to the sounds of Peeta’s footsteps downstairs as he paces. His frustrated voice reaches me.

“I know how long it’s been, Dad. I’m up to my eyeballs in work between my job and the house...Maybe for Christmas, I don’t know. I’ll let you know, though.”

I block out the sounds of his conversation as I spot movement. Buttercup’s yellow eyes lock with mine, one of Peeta’s shirts in his mouth and I shift my shoulders as he freezes, one paw in the air.

We stare at one another in a standoff, only the sounds of Peeta downstairs. Then, my opponent breaks.

Buttercup’s claws scrape wood as he races off and I give chase. We tear through the hallway and I’ve about caught him when his paws slip out from under him, tripping over the shirt he’s carrying then tangling in some kind of tarp on the floor.

I try to stop and careen into him. He screeches and thrashes, tangling us both in the fabric. There’s a series of crashes and a loud splash. Peeta shouting downstairs and then his feet thudding on the stairs. I twist wildly, frantic to escape.

He finds Buttercup first. “Aha! Caught you red pawed, buddy.”

I mewl and desperately try to claw my way free, but I’m too late. The tarp is thrown back and I blink up at a surprised Peeta as I crouch low, ready to run.

“And what have we here?” I can’t get traction and Peeta scoops me into his hands. “Your accomplice, no doubt.”


	8. Chapter 8

**_~~ Peeta ~~_ **

I can’t remember the last time I touched another human being. 

The cat staring back at me with enormous silver eyes doesn’t know that, and surprisingly stops struggling the second I pick her up. But the thought hits me hard that other than a handshake here and there, this cat’s soft fur is the most intimate contact I’ve had with another living being in months. I don’t count the snake that was hiding behind my toilet just a few weeks ago, although it did coil itself pretty tight around my arm.

“Now who do  _ you _ belong to?” I ask. In return, I receive the ultimate feline scowl of disdain. She’s still not struggling, seemingly content to remain cradled in my arms. Buttercup paws at my leg. “Well I know who you belong to, so let’s take you to Prim and we’ll see if maybe she knows who your friend is.”

The cat in my arms squirms and I just manage to hold onto her. Buttercup heads straight down the stairs towards the door, as though he knows exactly what I said.

“It’s okay,” I try to soothe the agitated cat. “We’ll get you taken care of.”

When we reach the fresh air of the outdoors, she stops squirming and makes a sad noise. 

I knock on their door and Buttercup sits next to me, patiently waiting. I take the chance to look over the second cat in my arms. Her pearly gray fur is clean and free of any distinguishing marks. Those wide gray eyes stare up at me as though trying to divine my soul. It’s disconcerting, but she remains still in my arms.

“Hi, Peeta!” Primrose greets as soon as the door opens. As usual, she steps through and shuts it right behind her. Her eyes drop to the cat in my arms and then she laughs a few short notes.

“Hi, so Buttercup and this cat appear to have gotten into a little fight in my house. I didn’t get a chance to look him over but this one appears uninjured. I was wondering if maybe you knew who she belonged to.”

Prim reaches for the cat and I hand her over. She’s limp in my hold and tolerates the transfer but makes an angry noise at Prim as she cuddles the cat close and taps one finger on the feline’s nose.

“This one doesn’t belong to anyone. I’ve seen her around, but she’s just a stray.”

“Are you sure? She’s beautiful...I mean she’s awfully well groomed and fed for a stray.”

“Oh I’m guessing she’s a skilled hunter,” Prim says and examines one of the cat’s paws. “I’ll see if she’s hungry, though.”

Prim moves to go inside and sudden panic rises in me. 

“Wait.” She stops with her hand on the knob and looks back at me. I feel so foolish and search for an excuse. I don’t know why I’ve formed this sudden attachment to a stray cat I found in my house five seconds ago, but I’m afraid to let her out of my sight. “Should we maybe take her to a vet? Make sure she’s healthy and has her shots?”

The cat squirms madly and leaps out of Prim’s arms, disappears into the bushes before I can even react. Prim sighs.

“Sorry,” I say and she shakes her head.

“It’s fine, Peeta. Buttercup has an excellent vet in town, but they’re closed for the night. If I see the gray cat again, I’ll take her in and get her checked out.”

“Okay,” I say and hesitate. “You think she’ll be back?”

“I’m sure she will. Too much good food in the woods around us to resist.”

“Right. Well, good night,” I say and turn to leave. Prim and Buttercup disappear inside, and just for good measure, I scan the bushes where the cat disappeared. I can’t see anything, though. It’s too dark.

So I go back home to clean up the paint and mess in my house.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Katniss ~~_ **

“We agreed to no more tricks. Control your cat.”

“I wonder if getting actual cat shots would have an adverse effect on your human form. We’ve never really explored the possibility. I mean, you’ve received human vaccinations and that hasn’t affected your ability to function as a cat.”

“Primrose--”

“Save the lecture and admit that it’s actually a great idea. Really it was your idea not mine. I just gave you the perfect opening to enact it.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask in exasperation. She whistles a short tune and grins at me over her cauldron.

“You said you wanted to observe Peeta. And that we lie to literally everyone in our lives and that got me thinking...you’re absolutely right. Don’t we all act different when we’re around other people? As opposed to how we act when there’s no one we have to guard ourselves from. Even people who aren’t witches do that.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“I’m making perfect sense,” she says and feeds Buttercup some tidbits of frog. “By day, you’re Katniss. Gardner and owner of a small shop in town. Surly but trying to get along with her new neighbor. Maybe you could even be a friend to Peeta. And by night...by night you’re Cat-Kat, or better yet! Kitty Kat! Stray cat who’s discovered a honey of a deal with a certain, lonely blue eyed man who wants to feed you and pamper you. You’ll get to see all there is to who Peeta is deep down inside about five times faster than you would just being Katniss around him.”

“How would you know if Peeta’s lonely?” 

“How would you know that he’s not? You barely know the man.” I scowl at her and her smile only widens. “Oh that look is perfect! Can you do that as a cat? As in when you’ve got fur and whiskers cat.”

“We said no magic in front of him.”

“Technically only the transformation phase is magic.” I want to throw something at her or argue. The problem is, she is making a lot of sense. “I’ll tell him you’re good to go with your shots tomorrow afternoon, that way you don’t have to worry about him trying to take you to the vet.”

“Fine,” I spit out the word. “But don’t you ever cuddle me or boop my nose in front of him like that again.”

I spin on my heel to head back out the front door and ignore the next thing she shouts at my back

“Oh you’re good. Perfect amount of righteous drama. But maybe watch Buttercup for a few days to figure out how to pull it off without words!” I throw open the front door. “Hey! Where are you going?”

“To help our neighbor clean up the mess your damn cat made.”

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Peeta ~~_ **

“Shit!” I lose my grip on the trunk and it clatters down the attic steps. The latch snaps open and the contents spill across the floor. I hold perfectly still for about thirty seconds, waiting for some kind of spiritual retribution. Howling, moaning, blood gushing down the walls...

When it doesn’t come, I glance up at the ceiling. “That was an accident. I promise I’ll put everything back.”

I take careful steps and then right the trunk. Gather the scattered letters, newspaper clippings, and photographs, yellowed and brittle with age. A few books. There’s a satin pouch that makes a slight  _ clink _ noise with movement. The final piece is a large, soft packet wrapped in tissue paper and tied with a blue bow. The light catches on something through the thin paper material, illuminating pinpoint sparkles. I pause and stare, tilt the thing. It looks like intricate beading. Maybe on a dress. Carefully setting the package on top, I grasp the trunk lid.

But I can’t quite bring myself to close it.

I tilt my head and stare at the letters. The slanting and narrow handwriting. I glance back at the tissue paper package. Curiosity is winning and I slowly sit, retrieve the tissue wrapped thing and squeeze it lightly.

“Would you…?” I look around me at the walls, at the silence. “Would it bother you if I just...took a peek?”

There’s no answer. So I put the package back, but then some of the words on the top letter catch my eye.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Haymitch ~~_ **

The door creaks open and I sigh, my rest -- such as it is -- once more disturbed. “What do you want now, sweetheart?”

I rise from my resting spot where I’ve been contemplating the decaying roof and watch as the boy gingerly steps inside, carrying what looks like a machete. He would have needed it to cut through the overgrowth to get here. I’m a little surprised and impressed that he’s braving this place.

He looks around, curious and unafraid. I could fix that easily, but I’m not sure it’s worth my time.

“Time, huh,” I scoff to myself. I’ve got nothing but time. 

He pauses and picks up the old dress the witch next door uses when she deigns to grace me with her presence. Little minx can’t talk to me as a cat, can’t get here with the state of the backyard as a human unless she cleared a path, but neither can she stand even a dead guy seeing her nude. The boy examines the thing as he walks further inside, a slight limp to his gait. 

“What’s with the leg, kid?” He can’t hear me, so I’m wasting my metaphoric breath. I sigh again and lay back on the shelf where I usually spend my days. “Just don’t drink my booze.”

Then I laugh. He stops moving and shivers.

“Hello?” I glance back at him and watch as he examines my chess set, lays the dress over the back of one chair. He shouldn’t have heard me. I’m not even sure he did. I guess a mortal could be more sensitive to shifts of spirits, though. “I just wanted to thank you. For letting me sleep the past few nights. I’m glad we could reach a compromise.”

That makes me pause. “A compromise, huh? So you beat sweetheart at her own game. Bet that pissed her off. How’d you do it?”

He can’t answer because he can’t hear. 

“Thought this was a distillery. Shouldn’t there be something other than gardening tools? Tanks for fermenting? I actually know nothing about making moonshine.” He lifts a rake off the wall and spins it in his grip before putting it back. His eyes roam all over the place, but he seems drawn to the chess game frozen in time. “You uh...mind if I make a move?”

He’s polite, I’ll give him that. He waits for some kind of sign that I don’t give him. Guess he takes the silence for consent because he pulls out the chair and sits, hand on his chin to contemplate the game.

After a few minutes, he moves the knight, careful no to disturb the dust on the board. Then he looks up, eyes roaming around the shed once more.

“If you’re here, I’m guessing you won’t make your moves in front of me. So I’ll just leave it for you. I’m not even sure if you can move the pieces. Please don’t be offended,” he says, holding up his hands. “I’m new to this whole living with ghosts thing. I can learn pretty quick, though. Well, my mother would disagree but that’s neither here nor there.”

I snort and play with the air around me. “You too, huh kid? My pops didn’t think much of me either.”

“Anyways. I’m Peeta Mellark. I know I should have introduced myself sooner. Seeing as how we’re neighbors now, and I apologize for that.” I turn to look at him again.

“Man, no wonder sweetheart’s been in such a tizzy. You ain’t easy to scare are you?” Just to test, I focus and kick a jug off the shelf. He jumps and looks over at the sound, but doesn’t run in terror. Doesn’t grab the machete again. “Huh. Not sure if you’re brave or dumb, kid. Either way, it’ll be entertaining.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow, if that’s okay with you,” he says and then smiles for a second. “Haymitch.”

I wait until he’s gone, wondering how the hell he figured out my name. Where the hell he gets off sauntering in here. And if he knows what sweetheart really is. I move to the board and examine the pieces.

“Damn. That’s a good move, kid.” I sit down to contemplate how I’d counter it. If I were going to play.

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Katniss ~~_ **

The bakery isn’t busy. Not surprising given how warm it’s been lately. Summer is in full swing and soon we’ll be in the midst of the hot days of ice cream and kids playing in sprinklers. 

I pause just inside the door, waving tentatively at Leevy, her sister, and her niece. They’re the only patrons today.

“What can I get you?” Jackson asks me when I step up to the counter.

“Maybe the chicken salad today? And is Peeta here?”

Jackson gives me an odd look and then turns to shout through the open door into the back rooms. “Hey, Peeta! Visitor for you!”

“Be right there!”

A rock on my feet as I wait for Peeta and my sandwich. Peeta arrives first, a smile on his face and colored frosting smeared on his apron. “Hey!” he greets me with a bright smile that makes me feel warm.

“I wanted to bring these to you. Took another look and found them,” I say and shove the handful of file folders across the counter. All of my dad’s records from when we first purchased and refurbished the house. I had to work some magic on the timelines since Peeta won’t be able to work as fast as we did. Not unless I somehow pull off certain spells without him noticing and pass them off as miracles. But I told Prim no magic in front of him and Peeta’s not dumb enough to buy that anyways.

He’s confused about the files at first, brow furrowing until he opens them and his smile breaks free again.

“This is...wow, thanks, Katniss. This is great.” He’s careful with the pages and I try to explain why I didn’t find them the first time. My excuses sound flimsy even to me, but Peeta doesn’t seem to notice. Or at least, he doesn’t comment. “I really appreciate this. I’ll get them back to you as soon as I can, I promise.”

I shrug. “Why?”

“Oh well...because they were your dad’s?” he coughs and scratches the back of his neck and I glance down into the glass case.

“It’s fine. It’s not like I’m loaning you his leather jacket or his bow.”

“His bow?” Peeta asks curiously and I play with the tail of my shirt, debating what to tell him. My father wasn’t magical, not in the sense that my mother was at least, so I guess there’s no harm in telling Peeta a little about him.

“My dad used to hunt in the woods. Bow hunting. Meant that we’d have fresh meat most nights. Deer, wild pig, turkey. Anyways, he taught me most of what I know about finding my way in the woods, surviving off the land as much as possible, hunting, foraging for plants. All the ways they could be used.”

“That book you told me about. The plant book,” Peeta says, surprising me that he actually remembers. He’s paused in his perusal of the files to watch me and for a few seconds, I’m unwilling to break our staring contest.

I had fun the other night. Actually had fun while cleaning up the mess Buttercup and I had made in his house. It felt good, not just because it was the least I could do after how much damage I caused him, but it was him. He made me...laugh. Something I’ve never gotten a chance to do with anyone close to my age. Not regularly. Other than Prim, that’s is. But this felt...different.

“Katniss, orders ready!” Jackson shouts, making us both jump.

“I’ll take good care of these anyways,” he says, lifting the folders. Then I have no choice but to walk away and get my food. I take a few steps and then turn back.

“Peeta, what’s dessert today?”

“Lemonade meringue cremes,” he says without missing a beat and scoops one into a bag before handing it over.

“Sounds delicious. Oh and I was wondering what you’re planning on working on tonight. In the house. Maybe I could help.”

**_~~~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_~~ Peeta ~~_ **

I wave as Katniss leaves my house, a strange lightness in my limbs. Shutting the door, I’m almost giddy as I jog up the stairs.

The work tonight seemed to go faster with two sets of hands. Even with us talking most of the time. Mainly about the house itself and my plans for it, but I was also able to glean some tidbits about Katniss herself and Prim as well.

There’s just something about her that intrigues me. There’s a softness, a kindness, and a vulnerability beneath a tough exterior. She’s protective of Prim and of herself too, I think. Most of the time she’s almost aloof and unreachable, which makes every morsel I get that much sweeter. 

Maybe I’m reading too much into her, but she’s offered to come over and help with the kitchen for the next few weeks and she even brought dinner tonight. I’ve missed being able to cook my own meals and am getting tired of campout type food cooked in the back, so tonight was a real treat. Not just because of the delicious meal, either. Spending time with Katniss was...alright, I really enjoy being around her. I just hope I don’t mess this up.

I take my time with my shower and dress for bed. When I’m done, I remember that I left my bag with my sketchbook and the folders from Katniss downstairs. She came over so quick after I got home from work that I didn’t get a chance to bring it up.

I flip on the lights downstairs and smile at the work we accomplished today.

My next big task is the kitchen. The floors are still rough in every room. I’ve finished the walls and the windows in the rooms I’ll probably use the most and was finally able to move myself into the master bedroom to sleep. Not sure I’ll sleep well since the tree where I often see the creepy ravens is right up against those windows, but I’ll give it a try. 

For the kitchen, I’ve got appliances on order. They’re saying the stove won’t be here for three months, though, and while that’s unacceptable, I plan to keep going until I can’t. For now, I’m working on the cabinets and counter space. Racks for hanging pots and pans over the stove once it finally arrives. I knew this would be a lot of work. I keep telling myself that once the kitchen is done I can pause. At least for a little while. I’ll have to since the kitchen will suck up the rest of what I have set aside for this.

I find my bag, but as I’m on my way back up, a soft sound catches my ear. Slowly, I scan the room, looking for the threat.

She prowls out of the shadows near the stairs, silver eyes wide and questioning. I can feel my lips twitch in a smile that I push back down, unsure what will startle her. It’s been several days since I caught her upstairs with Buttercup. I’m almost glad it tool her this long to wander back because it gave me time to look up cat safe treats I could make at the bakery. 

Gently, so as to not disturb her, I set my bag down and sit on the floor. She sits as well, regal and imperious. Now I really do smile.

“Hello there,” I say softly and her tail swishes around to the front then back. I keep my eyes on her as I search my bag until I find the plastic tub with the cat treats.  “I’m sorry about the shots. Prim said the vet declares you to be in excellent health. So I hope you like these. They’ve got cheese, chicken, and wheat. Little bit of sage for flavor.”

She rises a little when I open the container and pluck out one treat. I’m not sure if I’ll have better luck feeding her from hand or setting it on the floor. I hold it out in my open palm to start with. The cat approaches cautiously, shoulders visible as she stalks towards me. I remain completely still as she sniffs. Then she sits and looks up at me. I blink, uncertain what happened. She bats at my hand with her paw and makes a disgruntled noise.

“Oh! Right,” I break the cookie into four smaller pieces and offer them up. Her tongue scrapes my palm and her whiskers tickle as she eats. I smile at the satisfied crunching. When she’s done, she butts her head into my hand. I scratch behind her ears. It startles her and she retreats.

“Sorry! You wanted more, didn’t you? And here I thought…” I break up another cookie and offer it to her. She eyes me, tail flicking. “I promise not to pet you again.”

Another few seconds pass before she lowers her head and nibbles on the biscuit. I’m inordinately pleased that she seems to like them and make a note to set up a dish with cat food and water. I’ve got no good place to keep cream cold for long periods of time or I’d get some of that for her too. I’ve been keeping cold foods in a cooler and replenishing the ice in town every day, but I’m not sure that cream won’t spoil in there.

The cat finishes the second treat and demands a third. “Okay, but no more. I’m not sure how many of these your little tummy can take.”

She eats the third one with gusto and I smile. “I’m really glad you stopped by again. I get the feeling you’re something special. Aren’t you?” 

When she’s scraped every crumb out of my palm, she lifts her head and stares at me with those disconcerting silver eyes. I grab my bag and stand, careful not to startle her. “I’m going upstairs. It’s the only spot in the house with a comfortable place to sit right now. You can come too it if you want.”

Halfway up the steps, I glance back, surprised to see her following me. I settle on the bed with my sketchbook and stare at the drawing I started a few days ago. 

I’ve been meaning to stop by the library. What I found in that trunk has me curious, and I’ve been back to the distillery every day since. Not sure what I’m expecting or why. The chess pieces haven’t budged. If what I suspect is right, the ghosts have been here for over seventy years already. They’re not going anywhere soon. Plus, the kitchen has taken precedence for now.

The cat leaps nimbly onto my mattress and paws around for a moment before finally settling in a loaf shape. I bite back a smile and concentrate on my drawing. At one point, the cat wanders over and nudges my arm out of the way.

“What do you think?” I ask her as I tilt the page for her to inspect. She blinks and then curls up again, closer this time. Her eyes droop and wobble before finally closing. I leave her to nap and go back to drawing a dead girl. Every now and then, I glance back over at the sleeping cat beside me.


End file.
